


still waters (inhabited by demons)

by artmakira



Series: step on a puddle (beware of its depth) [2]
Category: Persona 5, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kurusu Akira Has A Palace, Chuuya in Tokyo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Finally some Chuuya is chapter 6, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He's still in the Port Mafia don't worry, Implied Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It does get confusing at some points, It is recommended, M/M, Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs), POV Akechi Goro, POV Alternating, POV Kurusu Akira, POV Nakahara Chuuya, POV Sakura Futaba, PT Leader!Akechi, Please read the series in order for maximum enjoyment!, WARNING : No Beta, but not entirely needed, more warnings to come, there will be additional ones (just in case) on the notes for every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artmakira/pseuds/artmakira
Summary: Goro is very fond of Kurusu AkiraGoro isn’t very fond of watching the people he’s close to suffer.These two facts are not always mutually inclusive. (It might be, this time)---In which Goro suspects, Goro investigates, and Goro conquers.





	1. carry me (over the waves)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have nothing to say except to please enjoy and kindly click on the kudos button if you do! Comments are very,very much welcome, they add fuel to the flame that is my enthusiasm for this story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira makes curry -he's significantly better at it cause he actually has the time to practice. Also, Tantei-san is a legitimate nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be sure, there is implied suicide and child abandonment around Goro's Pov when he's with Futaba, although it's not really focused on much.

_“В ти́хом о́муте че́рти во́дятся.”_

_“Hmm?” His narrowed gaze falls upon a demon in an Ushanka-hat. “Who might you be referring to, Достоевский?”_

_“You, if you would allow me to.”_

_“Quite a description for someone such as I.”_

_“Fitting, don’t you think?” The man gestures, “For someone with such complex thoughts?”_

_He moves fluidly, closer to the other, and whispers. “My bandages, they itch.”_

_“A mind such as yours, hidden in silly pleasantries,” The demon’s smirk could cut flesh. “Why do you parade yourself among dull creatures?”_

_He smiles._

 

* * *

 

 

Goro sips on his coffee -black with a dash of sugar. It’s a cup he likes to think is especially measured and made for him.

It probably isn’t.

With the way Akira is glaring at him, Goro wouldn’t be too surprised of it’s laced with cyanide.

Sunday mornings are surprisingly quiet in Café Leblanc. Although he supposes it’s because the time is a tad too early for people to be walking around the neighborhood. Goro’s quite fond of such a calm atmosphere. Akira doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.

“Alright, why are you here at 7 o’clock in the morning?”

“It’s already 7:23,” Goro raises the cup to hide his smile. “quite a nice morning, don’t you think?”

“It would’ve been if you hadn’t shown up.” Akira grumbles as he turns away to tend to last night’s dishes. The ones Sojiro had left for him after rushing out. Goro recognizes it as one of Futaba’s many attempts to give them ‘alone time’. It’s not needed, but appreciated, nonetheless. “Really, though, why are you here so early?”

“I merely thought Leblanc would be a good place to rest after a refreshing morning jog.” Goro informs idly.

“And what time was it when you went out to go run around aimlessly like a lunatic?” Akira snarks as he places the last clean dish in an adjacent glass cupboard. He grabs a cup from the dryer and starts to brew coffee for himself. “6 o’clock?”

“5, actually.”

“Monster,” Akira mutters darkly in a way that promises murder -or would have, if Gora hadn’t caught on to the lingering traces of playfulness from Akira’s tone. “all of my friends are monsters.”

“Well, my dear partner,” Goro says fondly. “Waking up early has been scientifically proven to be beneficial for one’s health.”

“Ugh, definitely not mine, then,” Akira says back, completely missing Goro’s subtle flirting. “I can feel myself getting older just by looking at you people, _Tantei-san_.”

Ah, well, maybe he hadn’t missed it.

A plate of steaming hot curry is placed in front of him. Goro blinks at it, then blinks again at Akira, “Is this… free food?”

“You’re more guinea pig than patron,” Akira waves his hand dismissively. “It’s a new type of spice I’ve been trying out. I want to know what the gourmet detective thinks of it before giving it to Sojiro.” He turns back towards the stove to prepare a plate of his own.

Goro takes a tentative bite. Flavour explodes in his mouth.

The sweetness of the rice mixing with the curry’s spicyness and melting in his mouth in a torrent different spices. It melts his bones and Goro moans out his appreciation for this creation God has apparently bestowed upon him. It can almost beat pancakes.

Akira raises an eyebrow at him as he takes a seat beside Akechi on the counter, “That good?” He asks smugly.

Goro nods.

“Good enough to beat pancakes?”

Goro shakes his head and pushes the plate away with herculean effort. “You’re not tempting me, Akira-kun.”

Akira sighs and eyes Goro’s plate of curry, “Well, I guess Morgana would appreciate it more than you would, senpai.” He reaches out to pull the plate. Akechi catches his wrist with one hand and uses the other to pull the curry back to him protectively.

“You’re giving it to _Morgana_.” Akechi states skeptically. “You’re giving my curry to the _cat_?”

There’s a distant hiss of “I’m not a cat!” that Akechi ignores as he always does.

“Well, at least Morgana’s going to appreciate it more,” Akira says in the off-handed way that he usually does when he’s teasing Goro -which is, to say, almost every single time they enter into a conversation that’s more then a few seconds long.

Goro proceeds to shovel the curry into his mouth as a response, staring Morgana dead in the eyes daring him to come and steal his breakfast. Morgana takes a step forward, paws padding on the counter-top. He’s inches close to Goro’s still half-full plate of curry. Goro glares at him. Morgana crawls slowly. The air is thick with tension. Morgana lifts his paw slowly, getting ready to swipe at the stray meat that had rolled away from it’s companion of rice and vegetables.

It’s the last piece of meat.

Morgana starts some sort of silent stare off with Goro.

The paw is still steadily rising.

It’s been at least a minute and neither of them have blinked yet. Goro’s eyes are starting to burn, and he bets Morgana’s are too if cats have the same blinking mechanism as humans.

The tension in the room is starting to reach ridiculous levels. Goro can feel his patience running thin. His anticipation for Morgana's next move has him strung tight as a cord. He leans in to ensure a better stance and-

The paw descends, fast as lightning, and Goro only manages to successfully save his food because of reflexes honed from dodging shadows, maneuvering palaces and managing his team of wayward phantom thieves.

Small, chocked giggling cuts through Morgana’s defeated yowls.

“I suppose I should be at least grateful that someone is finding amusement from my apparent suffering.” Goro scoffs. Akira proceeds to dissolve into full-blown laughter.

Morgana stops yowling once he notices Akira’s unguarded, plate full of steaming curry and goes in for the kill. The resulting cat fight between a self-proclaimed not-cat and a cat in denial makes up for his previous embarrassment.

.

Despite Akira’s hatred for homeworks in general, he does a pretty good job at finishing them up quickly.

“You know, just because I’ve got an attic for a room doesn’t mean every single one of you can just barge your way in?” Akira grumbles from his spot perched on the make-shift crate mattress. Goro had advised him to buy a bed-frame, once. Akira had flipped him off.

Goro pats Akira’s knee with as much sympathy as he can muster. Which is, to say, not very much.

Akira flips him off, again.

It’s become a common occurrence for the whole team to meet up in Akira’s place for impromptu study sessions (and PT discussions courtesy of Ryuji and Ann when Akira goes for a short break in the bathhouse), Math and English being the main subjects they usually trade notes and answers. Or, specifically, Goro’s and Ann’s notes.

Akira, the stingy bastard that he is, won’t share any.

At least he has the decency to provide them with curry and coffee.

(That’s probably going into Goro’s steadily growing tab.)

“Ya’ know, Aki, if ya’ share your notes we might finish faster?” Ryuji’s voice sounds from somewhere under the pile of books he’s buried in. Ann, who’s leaning on his only visible shoulder while chewing on gum, chirps a “Get your own notes Ryuji!” and is met with a wordless complaint.

When no answer emerges from the owner of their humble attic, Ryuji turns to Futaba.

“Futabaaa.”

“I don’t go to school.” He gets shot down faster than Morgana snatching sushi from that high-class buffet they went to after successfully stealing Kamoshida’s treasure.

“Perhaps, if you would focus more on your studies than your games, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” Yusuke says off-handedly. He’s tucked in his own little corner with a plate of curry balanced on his lap.

“Well, ‘kechi, could ya?” Goro side-eyes Ryuji. He takes in the pitiful eyes and slump posture.

And proceeds to let Ann take over with English, unwilling to leave the comfortable space he’s made on Akira’s bed next to the boy himself- who’s currently chatting away in his phone.

“Who’s that?” Goro pretends to ask when he catches a glimpse of Iwai Munehisa in Akira’s phone. Pretends because he knows who Iwai Munehisa is, but is curious about how the ID of their arms dealer had ended up in Akira’s phone.

“My sort-of boss.” Akira answers.

“Your sort of boss?” Goro ask again, this time a genuine question. He’s already dreading the answer.

“Yeah, I work part time there.” Akira says casually, as if that statement holds no meaning for either of them. It probably doesn’t for Akira. It does for Goro.

“But you’re _underage?_ ” Goro coughs to hide the undercurrent of panic emerging in his tone.

“Well, I needed money and people would hire anyone these days, so...” Akira trails off, his tone still as casual as before.

Goro’s panic is still growing and it’s starting to show in his voice. “And exactly how many part time jobs do you have?”

“Um… currently? 4.”

“ _Currently?_ ”

Their little conversation has, apparently, attracted the rest of study member’s attention. There’s a curious glint in Futaba’s eyes that Goro knows will lead to her towards sleepless nights of researching (and stalking).

“Woah, you’ve got 4 part-time jobs dude?” Ryuji exclaims, still buried under the pile of books. “How’d you manage to juggle all of them?”

Goro would like to know how Akira manages them too.

“Well, the beef bowl place only opens at night and Iwai-san’s pretty open with my working hours and school hour-”

“Wait- Iwai??” Ryuji, cheerful, loud-mouthed Ryuji, bellows. “You mean that arms dealer guy?”

“Yeah…?” Akira says. Goro can practically hear the gears turning in Akira’s head. “You know him? Didn’t take you for a guy who’d visit Untouchable.” Akira asks and he’s wearing that smirk Goro recognizes as his hunting smirk.

(And doesn’t that say a lot about him, how he knows enough about the Kurusu-Sakura expressions that he can practically predict what will happen within the next 24-hour with just a look.)

Goro’s somewhat worried Akira is catching on to their whole operation.

Only somewhat because, well, Akira’s always been a little too nosy for his own good given that the reason he had ended up in Tokyo was because he can’t seem to be able to leave well enough alone. Not that Goro would’ve, but he’d definitely found a better solution to approaching a drunk man harassing a woman.

Akira is also smart. Goro wouldn’t have suggested a partnership otherwise.

There are, however, occasions when dealing with Akira feels like a game of cat and mouse.

It’s a game Goro is wholly willing to indulge in.

“E- eh, yesh, naw-” Ryuji stumbles through a series of negatives that’s starting to become increasingly incomprehensible. Akira’s smirk is growing and so is Goro’s amusement. Goro takes pity once he knows Ryuji is going to take this lesson to refrain from blurting out Phantom Thieves related matters in public to heart and swoops in.

“And what about the other two, Kurusu-kun? You said four, no?”

Steel sharp eyes drill into Goro’s own. “I did, didn’t I?” And, oh, Akira is purring now and Goro knows when a challenge is being issued.

“Yes,” Goro says, voice dropped low and gravelly. “Do tell, _Kurusu-kun_.”

Bantering with Akira has always been fun, it’s always been _good_ to find someone who can keep up with him in ways that Goro will never be able to find in someone else. He can feel the tension as it wraps around them. It’s thick, so thick he can cut it with a knife. He doesn’t want too. Not when cutting it means ending their little game.

The cut comes in the form of a click and Goro knows it’s Futaba.

“That’s going into my blackmail collection!”

Yusuke is peering at the photo from her shoulder, “May I have that picture, Futaba?” He asks and Goro wouldn’t be surprised if that picture somehow pops up as a sketch or painting. Yusuke have always been very easily inspired by the little things -even if the little thing in question is a photo of his friends staring at each other. Now that he thinks about it, the photo would be probably very embarrassing to look at when Goro’s not still caught up in Akira’s carefully crafted trap.

And it is a trap because Goro has never been this captivated by anyone else.

Akira starts laughing beside him, warm chuckles emerging from whatever depths he locks them in. Goro laughs with him and the rest follow soon after. It’s warm and comfortable, surrounded by the people Goro knows he can trust.

He also knows that happiness comes at a price, and he is willing to pay for it if it means moments like these happen often.

(And if he'd known, maybe he wouldn't be so eager to agree.)

.

The sun had set by the time they finish.

Akira is asleep on the bed, curled up under a blanket with only a tuff of black hair peeking out.

He looks like a cat.

Goro supposes Akira sleeps almost as often as a cat. It has actually been a running joke between their group; Akira being called a cat more often then Morgana. Akira doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

Futaba is busying herself with her laptop, sprawled on the sofa in way that takes up the whole of its cushion, forcing Goro on to the only chair in the room. They’re the only ones in the attic, the others having left to attend to their individual affairs.

It’s quiet and it reminds Goro of the peaceful Sunday morning he had with Akira.

Futaba nudges him with her foot and gestures towards the stair. Goro frowns at her before he moves as quietly as possible towards Leblanc’s main floor.

It’s still quiet downstairs. He wonders how Futaba manages to convince Sojiro to leave the café to them without ever mentioning anything important. He dismisses that thought because it isn’t important in light of what they’re about to discuss.

“What were you going to tell me about?” Futaba asks as she kicks her leg idly. She’s seated on one of Leblanc’s counter seat. It’s the same seat Goro had sat on.

Goro stays silent, eyes not leaving the stair case.

He can see her think.

He can feel surprise radiate from her.

“No way,” Futaba whispers, voice high and airy. “No. Way. Akechi, you can’t mean that.”

It’s a quiet night and it reminds Akechi of the time he first met a boy.

“Akechi, please tell me you don’t mean that.” Futaba denies but Goro can tell that grim acceptance is settling in.

It’s a quiet night and it reminds Akechi of the time he first seen the boy, swathed in white, a black coat swung across his shoulders, shadows at his feet. Akechi was thirteen when he ran away from the day care meant to hold him until his mother came.

(She never came.)

Akechi was thirteen. The boy had looked older then twelve. His eyes were dark and blank and dead.

(Like his mother’s.)

It was a quiet night when his first friend disappeared.

.

Akira wakes up hot and sweaty, Morgana sticking to his side like some sort of unwanted heater. He can see Akechi dozing off on the couch, probably to lazy to walk back to his fancy apartment. Akira detaches himself from Morgana as stealthily as he can and shoves off the blankets once he’s sure Morgana won’t be disturbed.

He makes his way past the ladder carelessly placed in the middle of his room and down the stairs. The lights are still on.

“Hey, ‘Taba.” Akira slides into the chair next to her. “You’re still here?”

Futaba nods, eyes burning holes on the counter top. “Yeah, ‘Kechi wanted to send me back but I wanted to stay.”

“Boss okay with that?” Akira asks, just to make sure. “You know how he gets when he doesn’t know where you are.” He jokes because he knows Sojiro will come barging in here at midnight or some other hour Akira wouldn’t usually bother to open his eyes if Futaba hadn’t checked in with him. Though if Futaba really does disappear, Akira’s sure he won’t waste time on something like _sleep_.

He’d waste it bothering the back-route connections he’s made around Tokyo.

If Futaba disappears, nothing will stop him from finding her because he knows just how dangerous the world really is, especially if it’s seen through rose-tinted glasses.

(He’s done that once, as every child are wont to do, and he _regrets_. He regrets ever thinking he can even make a dent in such a widespread system of _corruption_.)

“Yeah, I called him. Wanted to stay in Leblanc, you know?”

Akira hums questioningly. “Why?”

“Can’t sleep.” Futaba inhales deeply. “There’s a lot in my mind…”

“Ah, well, anything you want to talk about?”

“No… Not really,” Futaba answers, “It’s…” Futaba presses herself into him, practically burrowing into his side. She’s stays that way for a few minutes, silent and still. Akira sighs and he pulls her as close as he physically can. He doesn’t know why she needs the hug, but Futaba needing one is enough of a reason for Akira to give her.

“Hey, Aki…?” Futaba says, her voice muffled from where it’s pressed into his shirt.

“Yeah?” Akira pats her head comfortingly.

Futaba falls silent again. Akira knows what it means, and so he gives her time, encouraging her with his hands and arms. He hopes he’s good enough at conveying emotions for her to understand, now. He hadn’t been, before.

Futaba pulls back slowly and he lets her, arms now loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

She sniffles once, “You’re okay, right?” Futaba manages, green eyes searching for his own grey ones.

Akira blinks at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Futaba is still gazing at him, searching for something Akira is sure he doesn’t have.

“You’ll tell me when you’re not okay, won’t you?” Futaba questions, and oh- Akira thinks he knows what she wants. It’s not something he can give. He’s not ready, yet.

Akira’s not sure he will ever be.

“Akira?” Futaba presses, face slowly contorting into a worried expression. “Won’t you?” She asks again, more forceful this time.

Akira tries for a reassuring smile. It works because Futaba relaxes from her tense posture, shoulders slumping in relief. “Of course.” He says, his tone resolute.

He’s not sure how much of it is true, if any at all.

It’s a cold night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where it all starts, yeah, if it's not clear, this chapter actually starts before the PT sans Goro infiltrate Kaneshiro's Palace, so it should be a few days before Makoto approaches them, which is why she's not in the study session right now.
> 
> Goro does feel a bit more hopeful and less cynical than cannon, this will be touched upon more as the story progresses. He does have sudden bouts of self-loathing, which is apparently, something that I associate with him for some reason. A for Akira, well... I do hope he's not too out of character? For a protag who's supposed to have malleable personality, he's surprisingly hard to pin down.
> 
> I've already got a few chapters in so updates should be weekly, unless something comes up. Comments and Kudos (and bookmarks, if it's not too much, ahahaha) are very much appreciated! Constructive Criticism and tips will be most helpful, too!


	2. (rising) tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto gets kidnapped, Akechi is appropriately concerned. Akira doesn't just have tricks up his sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very brief panic attack, but not much.

It’s cute how his team members think they can hide anything from him. Especially when that secret is Kaneshiro Junya’s palace. They must have forgotten he works part-time as a detective.

Having Kurusu Akira as a partner helps, too.

“I can’t see why you can’t just straight out tell them you know.” Akira says with a roll of his eyes.

“And I can’t see why you can’t leave the Phantom Thieves alone?” Akechi says back. It’s a statement disguised as a question. He can feel Akira’s incredulous stare.

“Well, for one, my little sister is in it?” Akira blurts matter of fact. “As much as I am grateful that you guys managed to save her, isn’t this is going a bit to far? Kaneshiro Junya’s Mafia, you know.” There’s an odd intonation in his voice when he says Kaneshiro Junya that Goro can’t quite catch. Although it does sound suspiciously close to disgust. Given Kaneshiro’s reputation, Goro’s not surprised. “And Ryuji and Ann are the only things keeping the bullies away from me. What do you think would happen if they’re gone?”

“Ah, an ulterior motive.”

“I’d like to keep from being buried under the insults and the rumours, thank you very much.” Akira huffs.

“Is my presence not enough for you?” Goro exclaims, mock hurt in his voice.

“Senpai, you’re not even in the building 80% of the time.” Akira retaliates -it’s true. Goro’s not going to start feeling guilty about that; it’s not his fault that the police department are incompetent half of the time. Sae’s not included, of course. Although she does leave quite a lot to be desired in the family department given how she’s treating Makoto.

Goro sees quite a lot of wrongs with how Sae treats him. He’s aware enough to know that Sae favours him over Makoto -most of it is probably from his contribution to the task force.

And it’s not supposed to be that way because Makoto deserves so much more than him.

The fact that Sae took him in is enough for him to feel grateful now that he knows where he would have ended up in of she hadn’t. Shido Masayoshi is a bastard. Nothing else needs to be said on that matter. He’s seen how his mother crumbled.

Goro is grateful, even if he feels like he doesn’t quite deserve such a thing with his track record of letting people close.

(They all end up dead or gone).

Makoto is suffering because of him and he’s going to fix that even if it breaks him in the process.

He’s failed two people already. He can’t afford to fail another.

(Being thirteen shouldn’t be an excuse.)

He’s not blind. Goro can see with both eyes and he’s not going to ignore the signs. Not again.

(He could’ve -should have done more.)

(The red pouring out of her wrists had been a shade darker than the red covering the boy’s hands.)

“And isn’t your sister in on this too?” Akira’s voice echoes in his head. The slightly worried tone guiding him back towards their current situation. The coffee, admittedly, isn’t quite up to par with Leblanc’s but it’s the only café on sight that’s close and concealed enough for Goro to keep an eye on Makoto without her noticing.

He eyes his sister though the thick glass of the café across from her and makes a face when the guy he assumes is one of Kaneshiro’s goons approaches her.

“You’re cracking the glass, senpai.” Akira points out, his tone is dry enough to rival a desert. “I’m not going to pay for that.” He leans back and crosses his arms. Goro has a vague suspicion that Akira is giving him a Look although it’s not very clear because of the sun’s glare reflecting in his glasses.

“Well, we are on a date, so I suppose I’ll be paying for all of these.” Goro says teasingly, gesturing towards the food on the table. The resulting blush that crosses Akira’s face will be well worth the dent on his wallet.

“W-What?? What do you mean we’re on a date???”

“Akira-kun!” Goro fakes a surprised gasp, “We are in a café, just the two of us! Does it not count as a date for you?”

“Senpaaaiiii,” Akira groans weakly, lifting his hand up to cover his reddening face. “If you don’t stop you’re going to lose Nijima-sannn.” Which would have been true if Makoto had moved, but she’s still in the spot Goro last sees her so he turns his attention back to Akira.

“Mako is still there, so no reason to worry, Akira-kun.”

“Ughhh, but senpai she really is going.” Akira points a finger towards Makoto general direction, his face still buried in his other hand. Goro’s eyes swerve back towards where his sister once stood, now nothing but empty pavement. He slams a few yens to pay for their coffee and drags Akira out of his chair.

“We need to go!!” Goro shouts at the waiter that had tended to their orders. “Thank you for the kind service!”

Once they are out of the café, Goro hears the starting engine of a car. He pulls his younger friend towards the sound but Akira feels heavier than he was before, as if he’s trying to force Goro to stop. “Akira-kun, we’re going to lose them!” Goro shouts at him and he hears Akira say, “Calm down, senpai.” as if Goro can calm down, damnit, Makoto is being _kidnapped_ under his watch.

He looks back towards Akira and oh-

The bastard’s smirking.

 _Smirking_.

It’s irritating -maddening, because Makoto is being kidnapped and why is Akira smirking-

Akira holds up his phone. Goro blinks at the screen. It takes him a moment to register the blinking red dot moving on the lines of what would be Shibuya’s streets in a very, very detailed map of the city.

“Uh?” Goro whispers, intelligently.

"Senpai!” Akira fakes a surprised gasp the same way Goro had before. “Don’t you know? It’s a tracking app!”

"I-I know that.” Goro stutters still trying to gather his escaping wits. “… _How?_ ”

Akira claps his hands together and that damnable smirk is back. “Oh! Akechi-senpai, a trickster never reveals their ways!”

And then Akira is shoving him into a taxi he somehow manages to haul while Goro is still dazed. Akira shows the phone screen towards the driver and tells him to follow the blinking red dot. Goro half expects the grey-haired man to question them, a pair of teenagers looking suspiciously like they’re stalking someone. But Akira beams at the driver and they’re off.

When Akira directs the smile at him, all devious grin and mischievous eyes, Goro shudders because he’s only just realized how dangerous this boy is.

.

They arrive in front of a tacky looking bar. Akira shoves a wad of cash from god knows where (Goro assumes it’s from the four - _four_ \- part time jobs, he still doesn’t know what the other two are) and that probably shuts the driver’s lips up tighter than anything Goro could do. Akira shoos the man away and the taxi disappears back into Shibuya traffic.

Goro is still trying to gather his wits. It’s not working. He probably left them back in the café where Akira first showed him the tracking app. He registers Akira slapping his face lightly and he manages a, “A-Ah, Kurusu-kun.” before his tongue ties itself up.

Akira raises an eyebrow. “Back to Kurusu-kun, now?” He says, unimpressed, “We’re alone, you know? _Just the two of us_ ~”

“Are ya sure Makoto went ‘n there???”

“Oops, maybe not just the two of us.” Akira pulls Goro behind a conveniently placed wall just as Ryuji walks pass them. Ann strides after him with Futaba behind her. Yusuke is the last one to pass by and Goro feels pride welling up because he recognizes this formation. The same formation they use when mapping a palace. It’s speaks how much they trust Goro to maintain how they place themselves even without Goro there to lead them.

Akira whistles beside him when the thieves’ sans Goro are far enough. “Very structured formation they’ve got there.” He whispers.

“Mmm, yes,” Goro says, fondness still stuck in his chest. It’s probably showing in his voice. “How do you know?”

“I’m working in an airsoft shop, senpai.” Akira says as if that would provide Goro with all the answers.

It doesn’t.

He means to voice this but shouts emerge from the bar and Akira is dragging him again.

.

Futaba and the rest of the Phantom Thieves plus Makoto comes out unscathed. Or, well, unscathed in physical terms. Akira’s pretty sure they came out a bit more traumatized than before. He makes a note to visit Futaba tonight. Gather intel here and there while acting as a concerned older brother. It always works.

That was how he managed to gather enough information to correctly guess the identity of the Phantom Thieves of Heart, after all. Although a bit of flirting with Akechi had contributed more.

Nothing Akechi has to know about.

Kaneshiro Junya is a vile individual. Akira wouldn’t feel much guilty if he has to result to drastic measures to ensure that the man doesn’t get his disgusting hands all over the people he’s come to care about. He’s pretty sure black mail will be involved. Mune-san did say he was willing to help out and Akira will use whatever he has so that everyone (who are important to him) will come out unharmed and not too overly traumatized.

(And if Kaneshiro Junya comes out a little more than ruined then Kaneshiro Junya can count himself as collateral damage.)

Akira follows Akechi on their trek back to Leblanc after the Phantom Thieves leader is sure that the rest of his team are okay. They take the subway back, packed together with other people like sardines in a tin. Akira can feel his skin itch. “Well, I suppose that went as well as I thought it would?” He hears Akechi say amidst the crowd's incessant chattering.

“And how would you know how they’d end up senpai?” Akira drawls out.

“I really don’t know, Akira-kun.” Akechi sighs and Akira can feel an arm wrap around his shoulder to steady him against the new wave of people entering the train. “There is one thing I would like to know, though.” The arm around his shoulder tightens. “How and why are you tracking my sister? Is this some sort of _hobby?_ ”

“Senpai!” Akira exclaims, scandalized. He swears he was going to explain but a glimpse of red catches his attention and he instead says, “I think Futaba is on the train! Better go the opposite direction.” Akira dislodges the arm around his shoulder and squeeze past people, trying his best to not touch anyone’s sweaty body. Akechi follows as closely as he can but they somehow managed to end up separated.

Akira has long since learned to be grateful for small mercies.

.

It isn’t long before the metro announces their stop.

The periodical call of _Yongen-jaya station_ drills itself into his brain as Akira steps on to the platform. He knows its only a matter of time until Akechi catches up to him with his questions so Akira does his best to escape from his inevitable fate.

He accidentally bumps shoulders with a man dressed to the nines complete with a fancy hat and manages to reach the escalator before someone grabs his arm.

Akira knows how Akechi’s hands feel and the one grabbing him is decidedly larger than his friend’s.

It is entirely instinctual when he shoves his elbow into what he assumes would be his assailant’s abdomen. Akira twists out of the grip forcefully, spins and shoves his knee into the crotch. Something gives and the person doubles over. Hah! The basic self-defense classes he's been having with Mune were starting to kick in.

Mune had mentioned he had cat-like tendencies. Apparently, that extends towards reflexes, too.

Akira dives into a wave of humans. He lets them drag him towards the exit just as the glowing dark red silhouette of a man emerges, standing over the downed form of his black-suited attacker.

The sun’s rays hit him full force, blinding him momentarily. A different set of hands grab his shoulders. What is with people’s hands and arms being magnetically attracted to his body today. His skin itches. Akira groans as dramatically as he can, steeling himself to meet Akechi’s wine-red eyes. The detective looks pissed. Akira offers a sheepish grin as sacrifice.

Predictably, it didn’t work.

“Akira-kun,” Akechi sighs exasperatedly. It’s enough of a signal for Akira to bolt again. Unfortunately, Akechi’s ever tightening grip cuts off any chances he has of escaping. A different approach it is, then.

“Hi! Fancy meeting you here senpai!” Akira beams at the brown-haired boy. “I thought you were going to head back to your apartment, so I decided to remove myself from your immediate vicinity! It’s only rational for me to unburden you with my continues exitence-” Akira knows he’s rambling. But, hey, different approach. Akechi might buy it if Akira starts talking in that formal way his senpai seems fond of.

"Kurusu-kun," Akechi says again, this time it's firmer than his previous tone.

Akira's mouth shuts with a click. 

The tone reminds him to much of  _before_.

Akechi's mildly annoyed expression morphs into something resembling concern. Maybe it is concern, but Akira has never been the type of person to hope. "Yeah, senpai...?" Akira mumbles, suddenly feeling hesitant. His breath hitches and Akira ducks his head and avoids eye contact as much as he can. Such challenging behavior will only bring worse punishments. He jolts, eyes wide when fingers tilt his chin up.

"Are you alright?" Akechi whispers softly and he sounds  _so patient_  . It's not  _fair_. The way Akechi treats him is not fair because he treats Akira like  _Akira_ matters and not-

Not-

Not-

_Stop_

He has to stop  _thinking._

Akira forces himself to look at Akechi.  _'Eye-contact_." His mind supplies. _'Don't falter and you won't lose._ ' He brushes his fingers across Akechi's cheekand forces a taunting smirk. "My, my _Tantei-san_ ~ I didn't know you care~" Akira withdraws with what he hopes is dancer-like grace, both of his hands going for his heart and says, "I'm  _touched, senpai~_ " A little bit of eye-lash fluttering, a wink and Akechi is blushing hard enough to resemble Futaba's hair.

" _Akiraaa_." Akechi whines and it sounds pathetic enough that Akira knows he's caught Akechi. Hook, line and sinker.

"Well, come on then, senpai!" Akira pulls Akechi towards Leblanc by his gloved hand. "I'm hungry!"

.

Goro worries sometimes.

And, sometimes, he worries too much.

Most people might call it paranoia but Akechi calls it cautiousness. He knows there's something more going in with Akira. That it's hurting his partner a lot more than what Akira shows him, shows the world in general.

Goro just needs to find the correct words before he can confront Akira. 

Because Kurusu Akira is a mystery.

Kurusu Akira is a mystery that Goro has to crack  _fast_ or he might lose him.

(He's afraid that it's going to be permanent.)

But Akechi Goro is a stubborn individual and when he wants something, he won't stop at nothing until he gets it.

He's gathered from the cut-off panic attack Akira seems content to think Goro has forgotten that Akira might be a similar case to Futuba. Leaving him is definitely not an option, but Akira is proving to be very complicated and Goro's not sure how much time he has left. All the previous palaces they had infiltrated had deadlines. Even Futaba's palace, which had been the most unpredictable, had a clear due date -it had been set by Akira, surprisingly.

Akira, who has the luxury of living in Sojiro's attic, and therefore, full access to the conversations that fly around Leblanc; which included a certain prosecutor's constant unsanctioned interrogations.  He had been the one to approach them after Futaba (then only known as Alibaba) had cut off all contact with them, shoved a photo of a glasses wearing, red headed menace of a hacker with a name -Sakura Futaba- scribbled on the empty space on the back, launched into a ten-minute long concerned older sibling speech and that had been that.

A week later, Goro acquires a partner and the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, a new member. The very same member Goro had enlist to help him with his current predicament a few days ago. 

The thing is, even with both of their efforts, they haven't been able to pin down  _one_ keyword and it is-

Frustrating.

Very much so.

He stays as close as he can to the Kurusu-Sakura duo, detective instincts kicked into high gear. This means extended time in Leblanc. Not that Goro minds very much, the curry and coffee is always something to look forward to, especially after a rough day of chaperoning (stalking) his team member's little excursion. 

Sojiro is busying himself washing the ever endless pile of dirty dishes behind the counter. Akira, having had his fill of curry, is chattering away about a book or two he's borrowed from the library. A feeling of calm washes through him when Futaba, Morgana perched on her hoodie, bursts in, interrupting Akira in a way that has Goro smiling.

He supposes he will have to content himself with a bit of snooping, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up now, next chapter we'll finally catch up with play with fire!


	3. the calm (before)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira skips school. Goro buys medicine. Sojiro starts getting ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heads-up! I changed Mini-Goro's age to thirteen in Chapter 1 and 2 cause I found out I messed up his age when I looked him up and found his birthday. Which I now know is on June 2nd.

Akira huffs out a pathetic attempt of a whistle before entering Untouchable.

Mune eyes him from behind the counter, his legs perched on it as usual. The newspaper he was reading is placed next to him and he moves to hand Akira a stack of papers.

"I JUST came in and you're already giving me work?" Akira groans at the older man. He goes ignored. The perks of having an ex-yakuza as a boss is that he gets to complain as much as he wants without any lasting repercussions. Mune's probably heard worse form his former days, anyway. Akira would know. Kaoru's told him quite a lot, half-remembered tales spun from a life built from violence that Mune had censored to make it child-appropriate.

"Say, Mune-san, where's Kaoru?"

Eyes, hawk-sharp and a shade between brown and grey -Grey Taupe, Akira had googled once, when he was so bored out his mind that he even thought about looking for the exact shade of Iwai Munehisa's eyes- flickers to him, "School." Mune answers gruffly.

"Oh, yeah, it is a monday." 

"Yeah. Aren't  _you_  supposed to be in school, brat."

" _Mune-san_ ," Akira gasps. "I'm  _16 years-old_." The  _I faked being sick to skip out because it got too boring_ went unsaid but not unheard.

"Still young enough to be a brat." Mune points at a box at the corner. "Sort those out for me." He says before disappearing to the back storage room.

Untouchable is as cluttered as ever. Akira lazily looks over the many boxes stacked haphazardly over each other. The one Mune had pointed at sat in a corner of the room. It's open and Akira peers into it curiously. Random realistic-looking weapons were piled in it, some of them Akira recognized as the ones that are being displayed. He reaches for one and pulls it out. The pistol feels foreign in his hands, _strange_ he thinks.

The model seems familiar but he can't quite grasp the answer floating in his head. He's seen it before, somewhere.

"Quite a thing for you to be squinting at, brat."

Akira's grip on the pistol tightens. He swings around on the soles of his feet and aims it at the source of the voice. "Bang." He vocalizes playfully.

Mune raises an unamused eyebrow. "You've got the grip wrong." Akira stands when Mune crosses the few steps needed to get to him in a few seconds. Calloused hands adjust his, twisting and turning the pistol in a way that fits the criteria only Mune is accustomed to. "Didn't know you were into guns." He mentions casually. "Seemed more a knife sorta guy."

Akira hums. "I dunno, just grabbed a random one." He examines the gun again once Mune releases him. "Looks familiar."

"Wouldn't be surprising if _you_ do." Mune informs him, uncharacteristically eager. "They broadcast it on one of those documentary channels, anyway. That model's an old one. Dates back to the second world war. The soldier's used to use 'em. There's a modern one, now."

"Oh." Akira says. It's a very intelligent reply. "Yeah, maybe." He moves to hand the pistol back when something clicks in his mind. " Wait- so I'm still too young to ditch the brat label but I'm old enough to handle firearms??"

"You're not getting out of work, kid." Mune grouses at him. "I'm payin' you for a reason."

"But Munnneee-sannnnn."

.

The first café Goro comes into that isn’t Leblanc or a result of subtly following (or stalking as Akira puts it) his team is a cozy one that sells expensive wines and over-prized pastries. The café is located in one of Shibuya’s many streets, squashed between a big-brand clothing store and an equally famous restaurant. The sign had caught Goro’s attention and it is a hot day, so he enters with little hesitation. The atmosphere is nice but it’s a pity that he can’t order anything except black coffee.

He’d rather much prefer Leblanc’s. Alas, beggars can’t be choosers.

If anyone asks, Goro swears it was entirely accidental when he catches a glimpse of Futaba’s flame red hair in one of the café’s round tables. The rest of the thieves are there too, Makoto sitting next to Futaba in the antique sofa the café provides. Ryuji is eyeing what looks to be a flute of wine and Ann looks quite content with the myriads of cakes surrounding her. Akechi wonders where the money came from. He gets his answer when his eye flits towards the other red head lounging on the only single chair.

The man most definitely looks important. From the way he holds himself to the way he dresses, Goro gathers that he’s either an executive of a very successful company or is involved in some sort of illegal business. He hopes it’s the former but given their luck Goro wouldn’t be surprised if the man has mafia blood running though his veins.

“Kobayashi Hideo.” He hears the man mutter under his breath. Akechi would've missed it had he not already been straining his ears. Some people might find it rude and distasteful to eavesdrop but Akechi's set of underhanded skills have saved him countless of times. Akira would be proud if he'd known just how many sets Goro possesses. There's definitely a few.

The man swipes the wine that Ryuji had been eyeing from under his blonde friend's nose and sips it methodically. Blue eyes focusing much to intently on Futaba for Goro to feel confortable. 

He parks himself on one of the café's chairs. It''s a bit to risky to be taking the seat directly behind the one his team is on, but Goro trust his previously mentioned skills enough to get him out of any sticky situation. The semi-translucent blocker that sits between them is also an adequate cover. So he settles down and mentally prepares himself for the long wait.

Futaba sounds from behind the wall - a continues loop of "Kobayashi Hideo" along with the periodical clicks and clacks of her laptop keyboard.

“Yeah, you’re going to make my name lose it’s meaning soon, kid.” It's the man in the suit again.

There's a brief moment of silence from his team's side. The café's small, quaint bell breaks it, Futaba's voice at the tail end of the chime.

“You don’t sound like a Kobayashi.”

(-and why is it a name he vaguely recognizes? Something stuck in the dusty corners of his memory, a fake etched on the bottom of a stolen credit card-)

There's a suspicious tone to the man's voice. “Excuse me?”

Goro is starting to dread where this conversation is going. He knows Futaba. He knows enough from the several time he's had to interrogate suspects to predict what people who feel as though they've been cornered will do. Goro moves to intervene but he's apparently not fast enough to stop Futaba's next words.

“You sound more like a Nakahara instead.”

The mental prep hadn't been needed after all because the wait had been short. 

And, besides, Goro suspects that no amount of prediction or preperration would have prepared him for the sudden destruction of the table next to him.

.

He's still trying to pick out some of the wayward splinters that had lodged itself into his hair when he losses his team and the strange -most definitely dangerous- man who's shorter than Ryuji. This is taking in the fact that Ryuji slouches 90% of the  time.

Goro takes a detour towards Takemi Tae's clinic, instead. He's short on medicine supplies, no harm in stocking up.

(He laments the fate of his wallet.)

"Well, hello there, detective." Takemi greets him when he enters the clinic. It's as white and pristine as always. Goro finds it quite relaxing, actually, although the sight of bandages to and the vague smell of antiseptics leaves him with a feeling he'd rather not think to much about.

"Good evening, sensei." Goro greets back, his smile polite and filled with intention. He's sure Takemi caught on because she's moving towards the examination room. "I need to stock up on medicine." He informs, just to be sure. A black nailed hand emerges from behind the door and beckons him into the room. Goro feels like he's making a deal with a devil. He takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly as he enters.

Takemi grins slyly at him from where she's sitting on her chair, a clip board and a pen on each hand. The methodical tap tap tap of the pen on the board has Goro swallowing nerves. He moves to sit on the bed when the doctor gestures towards it.

"Of course you do." She hands him a beaker filled with sickly green liquid. It doesn't even count as liquid with how thick it is. "You know what that means, don't you, my little guinea pig."

Goro stares dejectedly at Takemi's generel direction, before downing the whole glass in one go. The concoction slides down his throat alarmingly slow. He feels like vomiting -he tries not to. And because he's focused solely on controlling his rebellious gag reflex, Goro doesn't notice the inky blankness creeping up his eyes. 

It's a a bit too late when he does.

A deal with the devil indeed.

.

When Goro wakes up, it's to previously bright lights dimmed to just-awake appropriate levels.

His head aches but it's mild enough that it doesn't prevent him from sitting up.

"Finally awake?" Takemi says. She's jotting something on her clipboard. "How do you feel?"

"Oh..." Akechi takes a moment to breath in, it helps ease the pain. "I appear to have a mild headache." He answers and it's just then that he notices the tail end of his phone's ringtone.

"Hmm," Takemi hums before setting down her clipboard on her work table. She reaches for a bottle of pills located on a shelf just beside her and places it in his hand. "Take two of those for the headache and-"

The steady beep of his phone interrupts the rest of Tae's sentence. Goro gives her and apologetic look. He grabs his phone from where it had been sitting next to him and checks the caller ID. It's Akira. Interesting, but not interesting enough that it can't wait until he's finally stocked up his medicine supplies and is en-route to Leblanc. He's still quite bitter of Akira ditching him in the subway. Goro let's the ringtone run its course.

"Not going to pick that up?" Takemi asks, raising at eyebrow at his phone.

"No," He answers simply. "It's nothing that can't wait."

Takemi hums again. Goro takes that as his cue list down the types of medicine that he needs.

It takes a few minute for her to gather everything. Akira calls him once more. Goro lets the ringtone play but doesn't move to pick up. It ends and his phone remains silent for the rest of the wait. Takemi hands him a plastic bag -it's most definitely filled with everything he needs so Goro doesn't bother to check. He stands, pockets his phone and gives her a shallow bow as thanks, leaving the clinic with a heavier bag and a lighter wallet.

All in all, it's an equal exchange.

.

"How've you been settling?" Mune asks once they've finished up with all of the work.

"I've been doing okay." Akira answers, the cup filled with tea is warm in his hands. "Leblanc's attic is bit dusty though, and the mattress is hard." He crosses his legs under the table and shifts into a more comfortable position.

"Most be shocking." Mune says.

"Nah," Akira denies with a shake of his head. "I like it, actually." He traces the rim of the cup with his middle finger. It's a peculiar cup -white with splashes of bright colour here and there. Not the type of cup he expects Mune to have. Must have been a gift from Kaoru, sweet, sweet boy that he is. If he'd been just a bit younger then- "The lumpy parts help ease out the knots in my back."

"Don't think that's how beds are supposed to work, brat."

The nickname's back.

"Mune-sannnn," He whines. "Why do you call Kaoru, Kaoru but call me a brat?"

"'Cause you  _are_ a brat." Mune grumbles at him. He swipes at his phone -to check for messages, Akira presumes. Probably Kaoru's.

His own phone goes ignored.

Akira takes a long sip from his tea. It's sweet. Too sweet, actually, but he supposes that's just Mune. The man's always been a sweet tooth, further evidenced by the lollipops Mune always has stuck in his mouth.

Mune grunts something out. Akira blinks at him, confused.

"Kaoru's on his way back." Mune says, louder this time. He glances at the clock hanging above one the shop's display table. Akira follows his gaze. 

It's already 40 minutes past 7. A bit later than he thought it would be.

"I'll be heading back then." Akira grins at the older man. "Thanks for having me!" Mune watches him stand and collect his bag. He's tense in a way that Akira hasn't seen in a long time.

"Yer really going to do it tonight?" Eyes stare at him from below the yellow hat. "Helpin' the... thieves?"

"Um." Akira says in lieu of confirmation. "Akechi-kun is going to need me, so might as well." He leaves just as a boy a year younger then him clad in Shujin's uniform enters. Akira grins when he hears the question, "Eh? Was that Akira-san, Dad?" just as he rounds the corner and blends into the crowd, flipping the hood of his jacket up as he goes.

.

Goro sighs as Akira ignores his seventh call. He supposes he's had it coming, really.

Sojiro places a cup of coffee on the counter-top in front of him. "You okay?"

"I will be once Kurusu-kun starts picking up my calls." Goro grumbles, he sighs again.

"That bad, ey?" Sojiro leans back and crosses his arms. "Been here for half an hour already. What'd you do kid?"

"I didn't pick his calls up when I was visiting Takemi-san."

"What are you visiting a doctor for?"

"Weekly check-ups." Goro half-lies smoothly. It not an entire lie because he does get check-ups every time he visits the clinic, but it's not true either because the check-up he gets aren't really all that weekly, nor are they average check-ups either.

The bell chimes. 

"Don't fall for his innocent face, Sojiro-san. Akechi-senpai has been taking up drugs. It's why he looks so trippy and exhausted half of the time."

Goro doesn't even need to turn to identify the voice.

"Welcome home, honey."

Sojiro spits out the coffee he had been sipping. His eyes flits back and forth between Goro and Akira, expression incredulous.  _He's going to be taking this the wrong way,_ one part of Goro thinks. The other part? The other part kicks out any sort of rational and reputation maintaining thoughts to the gutter. More then half of his inner circle already thinks he's dating Akira, anyway, whats another one added in.

"I'm home~" Akira sing-songs in his ear and then there are arms wrapping shoulders. "You haven't even taken me out to dinner and you're already calling me pet names, senpai?" Akira gasps, shocked, as if he himself hasn't been calling Goro variations of his own pet names. "How bold!"

Sojiro's jaw is starting to drop to an astounding level. His eyes flits faster between, growing more and more scandalized.

Goro huffs a laugh. He reaches up blindly and pulls when his fingers come in contact with fluffy hair. "Should I serve you dinner in bed then, darling~" He says, echoing Akira's playful tone and tilts his head up to wink at Akira. The resulting blush that crosses over his partner's face is well worth the crick he's going to get from how far back his head is going. If Goro is lucky, there might not be a crick at all.

"Senpai!" Akira exclaims. He lets Goro go before slipping on to the chair next to him. The blush is starting to fade, Goro notes morosely, but there's still some red lingering so he supposes he'd make do with that.

Comfortable silence settles around them, although Sojiro looks like he's either going to spontaneously combust from the sudden revelation that the boy living in his attic is half-way dating one of his regular patrons or sink into himself to ponder the meanings of life. Sojiro turns to his coffee, instead, because  coffee is, apparently, the answer to everything. 

Akira leans into his side. A warm, grounding weight and Goro resigns himself to being a pillow. It's not as daunting a task as he thinks it would've been. He's about to lean back when his phone pings.

Multiple times.

A brief check reveals that it's the Phantom Thieves Official group chat.

"Didn't know you're that popular." Sojiro says, he's apparently recovered from his brief moment of existential crisis enough to tease Goro. "Might have to tone down on that if you're really going serious." And, oh, that's a quick step from shock to denial to acceptance. Goro would have laugh had it been another time -preferably when his team isn't occupying his thoughts with worrisome outcomes of their little expedition in Kaneshiro Junya's mental cognition and one Nakahara Chuuya.

Akira's gaze meets his briefly before he's moving out of the chair and behind the counter to distract Sojiro with appropriate non-Phantom Thieves related matters. Goro's ever thankful for having Akira as his partner. He silently promises to make it up to him, later. 

A small visit to the planetarium can be easily arranged.

Goro hastily mumbles a short goodbye and he's out the door, hurried steps taking him to Shibuya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually liked how this one turned out.


	4. the setting sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally catch up plot-wise. Also, Futaba you are in so deep you can't pull out now.

**Akechi Goro**   _08:18 pm_

Akira-kun if I may,

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:18 pm_

I would like to ask for one small favour?

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:18 pm_

The calling cards, right?

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:19 pm_

Don't worry, I have it covered.

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:19 pm_

Is your detective senses tingling?

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:19 pm_

or your PT leader ones?

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:20 pm_

Yes, to both.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:20 pm_

But more so my senses as a leader.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:20 pm_ T

Thank You, I owe you quite alot, don't I?

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:20 pm_

No problem!

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:21 pm_

Just, make sure the others don't get into too much trouble,

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:21 pm_

and come back safely, okay?

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:22 pm_

Of course, Akira-kun.

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:22 pm_

That applies to you too, senpai.

Goro chuckles indulgently as he reads Akira's last message. The metro he's in takes a sharp turn and he iddly rocks with it, accustomed to the sudden changes in orientation that comes with taking the subway. His eyes catch those of the woman sitting in front of him, a baby held securely on her lap. She smiles at him kindly and he smiles back.

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:23 pm_

Anyway, senpai, can you send me an HD pic of the calling card?

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:23 pm_

Of course, give me a moment.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:25 pm_

It seems I don't have one that can be directly printed, Akira-kun.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:25 pm_

Will this one do?

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:26 pm_

(pic sent)

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:27 pm_

Hmm, that'll have to do,

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:27 pm_

How much time are you giving me senpai?

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:27 pm_

Ah.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:28 pm_

I don't want to pressure you with something so sudden.

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:28 pm_

Just give me a deadline.

 **Akechi Goro**   _08:29 pm_

Tonight... if possible?

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:29 pm_

Sure thing!

 **Kurusu Akira**   _08:29 pm_

You'll be seeing a Calling Card filled Shibuya tonight!

Goro stumbles when the train gave an unexpected jolt. The mother looks at him, worried. He gives her a more reassuring smile. The look goes away but the expression still shows in her green eyes.

"I'm fine," He says. The lady gives him a croaked smile. It's a little to sharp to be sincere.

"Of course you are," She whispers, too quiet for any of the other passengers to hear but loud enough for Goro. "Not for long, though." The giggle that follows is ominous. The lady looks more girl than lady, her eyes glowing an eerie light green -almost white. 

Goro sucks in a shocked breath when she leans into his ear, the baby still clutched to her chest.

"Dear detective, do you know who you are dealing with?" The words rush into him. His head pounds ans he knows it's not a late side effect of Takemi's medicine. "You've doomed our little friend to an early death, haven't you?" And it's that giggle again, younger this time but no less unnerving. Goro jerks back. 

"What do you mean?" He asks roughly. There is a tap tap tap of sharp nails on his phone's screen. "Who's early death?"

The woman-girl- _lady_  leans back from where she had been leaning close to him, whispering into his ears. She is bathed in green, a sly smile resting on her face. "Well, should you or should you not? It  _is_ your choice, I suppose."

Fingers touch his shoulders. "Stain your hands with blood, preferably one of the two of Mori Ougai's... favorites." She hums, "The younger one is already playing into your hands, you sly band of _Phantoms._ "

The circle of green etched around them on the floor blinds his eyes. 

"Don't hold back, yes? Demon's orders." The whispered phrase echoes around him. It pulls him off his feet and Goro feels like he's falling, falling into a game of cracked mask and honeyed lies.

"...you okay, lad?"  There's a hand on his shoulder.

The middle-aged man is average in all the possible ways. A hard-working single father with balding hair and sleeping problems. He's wearing glasses -they remind him of Futaba's. There's a crowd surrounding them, whispers of gossip floating around. Goro looks up sharply, eyes searching. The lady. The lady is-

Gone.

And in her place sits a pair of gloves. Innocent and yet, not, crimson leather the same shade of Crow's own glinting under the merciless glare of clinical white lights.

.

He exits the subway, squeezing between people hastily rushing past him. Goro sighs heavily. His feet carries him automatically towards the check-out gates of Shibuya-chome station. A ping and he's out, making his way to ground level. It's crowded, as subway's usually are. His head is still pounding but it is significantly better than it had been before.

He breathes in deeply once he exits the subways gates, almost chocking on polluted air but it completely dissipates his headache. Goro'll take it. The business man shouting to his phone next to Goro -whoever it was in the other end of the connection shouting just as loud- is enough of a motivation for him to brave the even larger hoard of people milling about in Shibuya's street. There's a group of teenagers squawking and gawking at him, carrying leftover popcorn and soda cans. He moves around them, throwing polite disinterested smiles at the girls whispering  _'Is that Akechi Goro?'_   and  _' the detective prince going after the Phantom Thieves?'._ He would really like to tell them that their whispering is loud enough for people miles away to hear but refrains himself. There's no need for him to ruin his hard-earned reputation over a bunch of squeals -no matter how fake of a mask it is. 

Goro likes to avoid Monday nights in Shibuya -or, well, any night in Shibuya really. He's not one for merry making, especially with the current going ons of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts and his cover as a detective chasing after them.

He's busy enough as is, thank you very much.

Goro stops once he reaches a less crowded spot in front of an alley next to the station and waits. It's not more than a few minutes when a flash of red rushes by. He chases after Futaba, catching up to her when she stops to catch her breath. It's both surprising how she'd gone from a shut-in to being able to ride the subway alone, now. Nevertheless, the pride welling up inside of him is unmistakeable. A grin spreads across his face.

"Shibuya at night, Sakura-san?" Goro stretches a hand towards her. "My, my I wonder what Kurusu-kun will think about this?"

.

The others arrive not long after his little banter with Futaba. Makoto, his ever-punctual and strict sister who's actually such a dork underneath, comes first. She sports an apologetic look when she sees Goro, a torrent of _'Please let me explains'_ and  _'I'm sorry for being a burden'_ ready to pour out of her. He gives her a soothing look, the ones he's seen Akira give Futaba when he's reassuring that none of things that are happening is her fault, the ones that he's given Makoto more times then he is comfortable with. Makoto isn't supposed to need such reassurance.

He spots Ann strolling past hordes of people. She walks a model's walk and the way she does it excludes a certain kind of power that has the crowd parting for her. Goro smiles fondly. She's come quite a far off from how she had been when he first approached her.

Ann notices. She smiles back and Goro would be hard-pressed to say that it's just as fond as his own. Ryuji's familiar slouched form appears behind her, easy grins and boisterous personality thrown here and there as easily as Goro fakes a smile when he attends to arrogant adults who think they know more then he does. Ryuji's very own fashion sense has always been as loud as his voice. It's no different today, the blonde boy wearing his usual yellow top and baggy pants.

Ryuji sidles up next to him. "Hey, leader." He says, grin tuned down into a sheepish smile. "So..."

 "I expect a full explanation after we've settled our current predicament." Goro chastises just as Yusuke arrives.

"We do apologize, leader." Yusuke says slowly. There's a look on his face, one of proper guilt. It's similar yet somehow different from the looks Yusuke used to sport when something goes wrong -a leftover of Madarame's influence. Yusuke knows what he's done and is telling so in his own way instead of his usual masked confusion of an apology that he gives just for the sake of soothing frayed tempers and dodging days and nights of missed meals. "It was not within our intention to deceive you."

"Hmm," Goro hums lightly. "Later then."

"Later?" Ann echoes questioningly.

"Yes, over dinner if-"

"DINNER??" Ryuji cuts him off. The faux blonde's shout momentarily captures the crowds attention, but it's not too long before they turn away to chase whatever trends or media-fed lies are in season. Goro would know -he is, afterall, guilty of being one of the curators of such lies, what with being the second coming of the detective prince.

"Yes, dinner." Goro aims a stern look at the slouching boy. "If," He pauses for effect. "If we manage to steal Kamoshida's treasure."

"What are we waitin' for then?" Ryuji asks, his voice still loud but not enough to carry over the crowd anymore.

"Morgana."

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Although, in this case, it's Morgana, their self-proclaimed not-cat (and unofficial team mascot). 

Morgana slips out of the shadows of the alley they were occupying, sleek black fur glistening as he jumps into Futaba's bag. His tiny head pops out of the opening, whiskers twiching. "Kamoshida's palace for today, eh, leader."

Goro raises an unamused eyebrow at the cat. "Don't think you're getting out of this either, Morgana."

Morgana's ears flattens on his head. Big blue eyes pleads at Goro for mercy but he's not one to relent -even to this level of cat cuteness. That sort of technique might have worked for any other members of his team, but not him.

"Sorry Goro..."

"As I've said with the others, we  _will_ discuss this, either over dinner or in Leblanc." He fixes his gloves and pulls out his phone. "Now then, shall we?"

Various itterations of "Yes!" follows him as Shibuya melts into the metaverse.

.

Nakahara Chuuya is, in all aspects, a very impressive individual.

Very short tempered too.

When he had first seen the man back at the café he wasn't quite expecting  _this._

There had been a very brief interaction between Kaneshiro and Nakahara about the Port Mafia (which is, if his information is correct, a very dangerous mafia mostly active in Yokohama.) and the fact the Nakahara is, apparently, an executive. Which is  _very_ concerning given the fact that his team has been in close contact with him for the past _12 hours._ Even taking into account the fact that Kaneshiro is a part of the mafia, Goro knows Nakahara Chuuya is on a whole different level.

The power radiating from the smaller mafioso is proof enough.

“Or maybe that  _partner_  of ya’ from the famous Soukoku. The lanky and pretty one.” Kaneshiro says.

And Nakahara has a  _partner_. Which is not quite as surprising as Goro had expected that tid bit of information to be. It's up there with the fact that Nakahara is an  _executive from the Port Mafia_. But, not as surprising.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Nakahara growls. It's enough of a warning to set off alarms in Goro head.

And Kaneshiro, the arrogant _fool_ continues, “Not that ya ain’t pretty, Nakahara, but you’re sorta to muscular for some of the  _clients_.” 

Goro could barely hold back the flinch at the feeling of utter disgust and rage spilling out of Nakahara. He narrows his eyes at Nakahara before focusing back on Kaneshiro's gradually purpling form.

 _'Port Mafia,'_ His mind echoes over and over again.  _'An executive from the Port Mafia. And he's glowing r ed.'_

Wait, red?

The Port Mafia executive  _is_ glowing red. A red so bright it's almost white and it reminds of the woman from the train. Except the woman hadn't looked quite as threatening as Nakahara does now. A similar looking pattern circles Nakahara but it doesn't blind him.

“This scene, such strong emotions interwinding in a deadly dance… ” Goro hears Yusuke whisper in awe. At any occasion he would have let Yusuke continue, but now is definitely not the time. There's a glowing  blob of colour behind Kaneshiro. The treasure. It's already starting to take form, surprisingly. From what is currently happening, Goro assumes it's something close to territorial behavior. Nakahara Chuuya's presence must have been quite a threat for Kaneshiro to feel like someone is going steal his treasure.

“Fox, you can sketch this out later,” He states his thought out loud.“For now, focus on Kaneshiro, we don’t know what he wants but apparently Nakahara-san’s presence is enough of a calling card as is."

God, he hopes Akira is ready with the calling card.

“It appears we might have to steal his treasure today.”

"WHAT??"

.

Surprisingly, stealing Kaneshiro's treasure went off without a hitch.

Even with decidedly very dangerous variables added into the mix it went as smooth as any of their usual mission.   _'_ _And very fast too_ , _'_ Goro muses as they speed through Kaneshiro's crumbling palace. He glances at the rear-view mirror that reflects one very miffed Mafioso sitting beside Futaba. Why Nakahara hadn't jsut bailed on them with his apparent gravity-defying powers, Goro would never know.

"The cat turned into a bus." Nakahara says as he slaps Futaba's prying hands away with his his own gloved one.

Goro's about to answer but Futaba beats him with a "Yep!" and "You've got a  _God_  stuck in your body?"

Ah, a God.

Wait.

_A GOD??_

Goro swerves off course and almost hits a falling piece of cement. There's a faint yell of "Hey! Watch it!" that probably came from Morgana, but the rest of his team seem otherwise unaffected by his sudden lack of driving skills. Not that he had any in the first place -what with the very convenient uses of subway lines and buses- but no one has to know that.

"How the  _fuck_ did you know that?" Nakahara growls, echoing Goro's own state of surprised horror for very different reasons. He's very much unaffected too, but that's irrelevant in the sudden influx of information he just received.

(Is-is the God a  _Persona???_ )

"Is this God, perhaps, a Persona, Futaba?" Yusuke asks from somewhere behind him. It's a question Goro would like to know the answer to, too. He silently thanks Yusuke for his unintended mind reading because Goro can't afford to take his attention from the crumbling road ahead less they die a stupid death via negligence. If something happens to Futaba (and Ann and Ryuji and, by extension, Yusuke and Makoto) Akira is going to resurrect and kill Goro himself. It's not entirely wrong to think that death by vengeful, protective unofficially adopted older brother is a painful way to go.

"Nooott a Persona," Futaba drawls out. "Definitely not a Persona." She says again with the satisfaction of cat knowing that it's got the owner trapped under it's paw.

Nakahara draws a very, very long breath. "How the  _fuck_ do you know?" He says, after a few seconds of angry contemplation, "And what the fuck is a persona?"

"Necronomicon." Futaba grins as if that one word answer is clear enough of an answer, because it most definitely is not if what Goro gleans from Nakahara's dumbfounded expression is true.

"Necronomicon?" Nakahara exhales, slowly.

Very slowy. 

"'Taba!" Ryuji shouts. "Just tell him before he blows us all up!"

That- that doesn't sound like a very reassuring prospect.

Goro would rather brave death by protective older brother, really.

.

Death by Kurusu Akira does not sound as appealing as it had been now that he knows what the infamous Disappointed Voice, that usually takes up about 45% of the chat room courtesy of one Sakura Futaba, is like.

"You know, I'd actually expected better from you, senpai," Akira sighs heavily. "I  _know_ it's supposed to be for the good if the world, but Shibuya?"

"Sorry 'Kira..." Futaba says dejectedly beside him. "It was, kinda, a sudden thing too."

Akira's gaze lingers at Futaba bowed head before turning to pierce at Goro sharply. "Well?"

"I do apologize, Kurusu-kun, but I will not apologize for doing to Kaneshiro Junya what should have been done to him ages ago." Goro says vehemently. Even if he is sorry for worrying the younger boy, he's not going to start regretting the justice that they are enacting on various individuals who have gone unscathed for too long.

"That's... that's  _not_ what I meant." Akira inhales, Goro has been hearing a lot of inhales recently. "It's not  _that_ , I mean, did it have to be in Shibuya's red-light district above  _ten o'clock at night?"_

"Yeah, it's a one time thing," Futaba grins sheepishly. "Something came up suddenly, so, yeah..." She trails off, cautiously sneaking a peak at Akira from under her bangs. "Sorry, 'Kira..."

"If it helps, I do sincerely apologize, Akira." Goro whispers softly, lifting his hand to press palm-down against Akira's. "I won't be able to promise that this won't happen again, but I will try my best to make sure that it doesn't happen more than it has too."

"Nghhh..." Akira groans dramatically, "You're going to be have to unearth me from where I'll be buried six-feat under one of this days." He presses the fingers of his free hand to his forehead. "Even  _Morgana_  looks like he's about to drown in guilt. How am I supposed to react to  _that._ "

Akira flips the hand trapped under Goro's so that their palms are pressed against each other. There's a flash of red from the inside of his wrist when Akira's long-sleeved black turtle neck briefly catches on the wooden counter but it disappears under the fabric when Akira slips away. He stumbles when he stands and Goro moves swiftly to steady him, wrapping his finger around Akira's bicep. Akira flinches so subtly, Goro would've missed it had he not been paying attention. "I'm fine, senpai, just as little dizzy, 's all," Akira says with a small smile. "You're welcome to stay the night, if you'd rather not walk back to your apartment." He turns to Futaba, "Want me to walk you back home, 'Taba?"

Futaba's teeth worries her bottom lips. "Aren't you tired? I mean, you just..." She makes a vague gesture to express what just happened.

"Eh, I'm fine." Akira waves off her concern, "Senpai?"

"Ah, I suppose I'll stay if you don't mind, Kurusu-kun." Goro smiles softly.

"Sure! Make yourself comfy while I send this little gremlin back home." Akira says with a smirk. He ruffles Futaba's hair and gets a "Hey!" in return.

"You better pray Sojiro's asleep, 'Taba!"

.

Sojiro is, thankfully, asleep -which was a miracle in itself, but Akira's mischievous grin when he'd successfully sneaked her in was as good as an answer Futaba would get. That had been hours ago, back when she'd thought the unknown hacker terrorizing her had already given up and left her well alone.

They hadn't.

They'd sent her a picture, instead.

Futaba draws in a deep breath to stabilize herself before sending her message.

  **Alibaba**   _04:03 am_  
Change his heart?

 **?**   _04:03 am_  
Yes!

  **Alibaba**   _04:03 am_  
Thats

  **Alibaba**   _04:04 am_  
Thats not how it works.

 **?**   _04:04 am_  
Ah.

  **Alibaba**   _04:05 am_  
We need information.

  **Alibaba**   _04:05 am_  
More then just a picture.

 **?**   _04:05 am_  
I do know that, Sakura-chan, not the full mechanics, but most of it.

  **Alibaba**   _04:05 am_  
Hobbies, likes, personality.

  **Alibaba**   _04:06 am_  
Associations and such.

 **Alibaba**   _04:06 am_  
What?

 **Alibaba**   _04:06 am_  
How???

 **?**   _04:06 am_  
Hmm... associations

 **?**   _04:07 am_  
He has connections with the Port Mafia.

 **?**   _04:07 am_  
But I can only tell you so much...

 **?**   _04:07 am_  
He is, after all, a very reserved individual.

 **Alibaba**   _04:08 am_  
That's not enough.

 **?**   _04:08 am_  
It has to be, don't you think?

 **?**   _04:08 am_  
Especially with what's at stake :)

 **Alibaba**   _04:09 am_  
You-

 **?**   _04:09 am_  
I never said you can't consult with your team, Sakura-chan.

 **?**   _04:09 am_  
I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help.

 **Alibaba**   _04:10 am_  
Then...

 **Alibaba**   _04:10 am_  
A name.

 **Alibaba**   _04:10 am_  
I need a name.

 **?**   _04:11 am_  
Ah, I'm glad we see eye to eye.

 **Alibaba**   _04:11 am_  
A. Name.

 **?**   _04:11 am_  
So eager,

 **?**   _04:11 am_  
Very well then.

 **?**   _04:11 am_  
Thy name is!

 **?**   _04:12 am_  
Tsushima Shuuji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, I left the 3rd chap up for a *week* and your theories got me running for my laptop -and my plot (you know who you are, yes I'm looking at you fox-san, queen-san and rose-san, keep them up guys I love them let's see who can get the closest to the actual answer.) 
> 
> (I dare you.)
> 
> (ninjy, darling, your comments are the purest agahhdjksl pure bean warms my soul and thaws my cold, dead heart.)
> 
> See ya'll next week.


	5. drown (the soul)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Futaba and Goro get very, very frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervously hands you today's chapter* Ihopethisisokay

Goro has always been the type to wake up with the sun.

Although, for some occasions, he would be more than happy to wake up when the sun has risen high up in the sky. Given the fact that traversing the Metaverse and completing the palace is a very exhausting endeavor, he'd say an impromptu one-day vacation is a well deserved reward. 

One of the perks of being a famous detective is being able to take that impromptu one-day vacation without any lasting negative value. He doesn't envy the day the rest of his team -minus Futaba- will be having in school.

He's seated cross-legged on Akira's mattress; the younger having left hours ago with a whispered 'I'm heading out' just loud enough to pierce the haze of drowsiness that had clung to Goro's subconscious before Akira had let him drift back to sleep. He wonders why Akira hadn't woken him up, but given his partner's unnatural knowledge concerning the Phantom Thieves, it's not too far-fetched for Akira to partly know about how the Metaverse works.

Goro fiddles with the red gloves held in his left hand, forehead scrunched up in utter focus. The lady had said Phantoms.

 _Phantoms_.

Goro will never let himself be deluded enough as to believe that the Phantom Thieves is an invincibly hidden group. Even his own sister had managed to find out and blackmailed his team into helping her. Although, it is a concerning thought that there are people powerful enough to bend space -or gravity, as he's witnessed from Nakahara- who knows enough about the Phantom Thieves to be able to leave a warning in the form of Goro's own gloves. Crow's gloves.

Or it might have been a lucky guess, a coincidence, maybe.

Not one he would've believed, if it really was the case. Combining both what she had said and the gloves, it's much to close for it to not concern the Thieves.

There's also the fact that she had somehow twisted the subway enough so that only Goro had noticed her.

He sighs, looking up from his hands. Akira's attic space is as bland looking as ever. A laptop is on the desk. It looks ancient and Goro idly wonders how Akira gets anything done with it. The TV, at least, looks marginally more modern with better looking facilities. There's a game console underneath it too, and an array of different genres of games stacked beside. Other then those, there's nothing exactly spectacular in Akira's attic -as if his partner doesn't plan on staying for long or so that he wouldn't have to leave anything important behind if he had to move suddenly.

Placing the gloves on the bed, Goro heads over to the two boxes shoved into a corner. There's one labelled as 'books' and, predictably, it's filled with random books. There are some action novels, a few miscallenous ones, and two or three by Haruki Murakami. He lifts one up and blows the dust from it's shell. _Pandora's Box_ is etched on the cover, although there is a rip where the author's name is supposed to be, as if deliberately scratched out. Goro flips through it causing even more dust to fly about. The book is old, the paper already starting to yellow, there are vague impressions of finger prints in a few pages. Akira must have read it a lot, absorbed by the journey of a man struggling to rebuild his life after a war. He places the book back gently, moving on to the next box.

There is no label on, he notices, and it's been sealed tightly with tape. Akira intended for whatever was inside to stay inside, and as curious as Goro currently is, he's not one to disrespect someone's privacy when it is so thoroughly shown, so he leaves it be.

Besides the box of books and the other unopened one, nothing else catches his attention enough to warrant a search. Sure there are many other boxes and trinkets in the attic, but it's mostly Leblanc's. Goro sits back on the bed, sighing heavily. He's no closer to figuring out Akira's keywords than he had been a week ago. Reading _Pandora's Box_ might help, but he's not sure he's willing to brave Akira's suspicion if Goro asks to borrow it.  _The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles_ by Haruki Murakami is a less risky alternative to look through since he can actually go and buy the book. Having a copy and feigning innocence when asked is safer than borrowing an old, well-read book with the author's name ripped out.

He might be able to search for the book online if he had the author's name. A very brief summary and title, especially one as common as  _Pandora's Box_ , might end him with an entirely different volume.

Goro glances at the gloves again before flopping on the bed, covering his eyes with his elbow. There's a dull ache in the back of his head that he knows it's going to explode into a full-blown migraine later on.

He's close to dozing off when his phone starts ringing, startling him out of the light haze he was in. He groans and snatches it from where he's thrown it on the bed, quickly checking the caller.

It's Futaba.

_"Akechi! I need to tell you something! FAST!"_

"I- Futaba what's going on?" He asks, concerned. Futaba sounds frantic -panicky even, and that's never been a good sign.

_"It's -ugh, you won't get it if I explain over the phone! But if you're in class then- aahhh it's not something that I can hold in any longer!!! It's been **hours** -well, a day or two actually but I didn't think that it was going to blow up like this. I thought I could handle it myself but then it got complicated and-_

"Futaba, calm down." Goro cuts through her rant slowly. "I'm currently in Leblanc, do you need me to come over?"

_"You're not in class????"_

"Perks of working with the police force, I suppose." He repeats his previous question to make sure that Futaba's heard him. "Do you need me to come over?"

_"Does Sojiro know you're there?"_

"I... don't know actually, but I'd hazard a guess that he doesn't since he hasn't gone to check yet."

_"Then... Akira's not there right? I mean I did set up some hidden cameras and voice recorders but-"_

"You. Set up. Hidden cameras in Akira's room...?" He echoes, flabbergasted.

_"Well, yeah, gotta make sure Sojiro's new tenant isn't going to start trashing the café."_

"I-"

_"Eh, don't worry, Akira found out about me a week in. Can you believe that??? A week in??? He told me to kindly stop spying on him since he doesn't plan on hurting anyone. Or trashing Leblanc."_

"W- We're going to put that matter aside for now." He manages to stutter out of the shock of  _Futaba placing hidden cameras around Akira's room_. 

_"Oh! Right! Yeah, I'm going to head over there, it's... this is really complicated, and, I mean, we're already researching about Akira's Palace..."_

"Does this have something to do with that?"

_"I don't think so, it's something like a request, just- I'm heading over with Morgana now. Be there in five."_

The call ends with a click that leaves Goro pondering Futaba's words. A request? What sort of request is urgent enough for her to call Goro during school hours when she doesn't know that he's not in class. Futaba's never bothered calling about a request before. He's sordidly glad that he hadn't attended classes today, even if that's probably the sort of thing a delinquent would think -who's to say Goro's not some sort of rebel himself, being the leader of the Phantom Thieves and all.

Futaba does arrive five minutes later, Morgana tucked into the bag she has slung over her shoulders. She immediately takes a beeline towards the bed where he's seated on, placing the bag down on the floor. Morgana slips out of it and starts to roam Akira's attic.

"Here," Futaba says, pulling out her laptop. "I can show you this from my phone, but I think it'll be better seen from this." The laptop hums quietly as Futaba starts it up. "Hey, Goro, before I actually say anything, please promise you won't freak out to much...? I mean, ANYONE might freak out from this, but like, not to much...?" 

"I will have to know  _what_ I'm about to 'freak out' about, don't I?"

"Yeah too that, I guess." Futaba whispers. He's never seen her this quiet with anyone she's comfortable with, himself hopefully included.

"How bad is it Futaba?" Goro asks. Directly to the point as he always does with serious matters.

"Well, first of all," Futaba starts. The messenger app that they use popping up on the screen. He follows the blinking arrow icon when Futaba moves her finger over the touch pad. It goes down, scrolling past many chats and ending in one labelled with a question mark instead of a name. "For the past few... days? Yeah, days, I've actually been hacked by an unknown person."

He breaths in, shocked. "Hacked...?"

The icon hovers over the question mark. Futaba nods hesitantly, "Yeah, kind of like when I asked you for help as Alibaba?"

Goro remembers. It was quite a thing, actually, having someone hack into his phone so suddenly. Although, hackers never really give out warning when they hack, it'll probably take out the surprise.

"It's like that, so it's not anything drastic," Futaba pauses, inhaling deeply. "At least, at first, before whoever they were mentioned both my alias and  _my name_."

"Your  _name_ , Futaba?" Goro's eyes snaps towards her. "That's  _dangerous_."

" _I know!!!"_ Futaba nearly shouts, frustrated. " _I know, Goro_."

"What else do they know?"

Futaba chews on her bottom lip. "A lot." She finally says, glossing over the very concerning _a lot_ -he's definitely not letting that go. "That's not the only thing- I- They wanted me to spy on Nakahara? That's what they implied." The phone screen is turned towards him, showing a series of text messages. "Then they cut me off. That was Sunday morning, before we met Nakahara."

He takes the laptop from her and scrolls down, stopping ones he reaches another text marked  _read 07:57_ _pm_. "This... hacker, they're very familiar with Nakahara-san, aren't they?"

"Yeah. They  _did_ practically ask me to stalk Nakahara all day."

"When you told Nakahara-san you managed to hack into the Port Mafia, was that true?"

"It's partially true? Parts of the information I got was from whoever this guy was. The other are bits and pieces I found myself."

"But _did you hack into the Port Mafia_?" Goro stresses, rising his free hand to wipe at his face.

"Maybe, Kind off, yeah?" Futaba admits sheepishly.

" _Futaba."_

"In my defense, I couldn't get past some of the more secure layers? And I didn't leave any tracks." She shrugs her shoulders, taking her laptop back.

" _Futaba_." He repeats because Goro really doesn't know what to say but he has to say  _something_. He sighs. Again. "Was this where you knew that Nakahara has entered Kaneshiro's palace?"

"Yeah." Her index finger moves to scroll downwards. "But none of those are what I wanted to tell you."

"Please don't tell me there's worse."

Futaba makes a face. "Honestly? I think it is."

" _Futaba_." He repeats again, because,  _honestly_ , it's the only think that can show the amount of stress building up.

"Okay! Before you freak out more I  _did_ block them! In the hacker sense! If I start explaining the technicalities it's going to get too long so-! Yeah, they're not even supposed to be able to reach me! But then they  _did_!" She says, sounding equally as stressed as Goro." And then- and  _then-"_ She shoves the laptop screen as close as she can to his face without effectively chocking him. A blur of black and white and red appears and his eyes cross at how close it was. Goro pushes the laptop back to get a better look.

It's a picture.

Shuuji.

.

“Hello Akechi-kun.”

Goro's eyes swerve towards the source of the voice from where they had been observing the clouds. “Ah, um, hello.” He greets the stranger timidly. “H- How do you know my name?”

“Oh! From the daycare lady!” The stranger exclaims with a grin. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And the other kids.” He says gesturing towards the other daycare children milling about in the playground close to the daycare. It’s afternoon and all of them are clumped in groups of five or six.

“O-Oh…” Goro trails off, wine-red eyes not meeting the stranger’s own.

“Say, Akechi-kun,” The stranger whispers. “Why are you alone?”

“None of the others want to play with me…” Goro admits reluctantly, “They think I’m a freak.”

“Well,” The stranger says and Goro peels his eyes away from the ridiculous dress shoes up pass the sleek pressed suit and the overly large coat he has slung over his shoulders. The whole get-up is jarring once he notices that the stranger is as short as he is, maybe even slightly thinner than Goro, which is shocking, because Goro had been classed as underweight for children his age. Just another thing to add to his list of creepiness.

“I don’t think you’re a freak.” And it’s the smile that drags Goro’s attention towards the stranger’s face. He takes in the dark fluffy curls and Goro wants to touch them. Wants to run his hand through them to see if they really feel as soft as they look. He stops himself, dismisses the idea because no one, except his mother, has ever wanted Goro to touch them.

The stranger catches on to Goro’s hesitance. He reaches out with a gloved hand but Goro jerks back. “You don’t want to touch me, everybody thinks I’m dirty.”

“Oh, but Akechi-kun, do you have dirt on your hands?” Goro’ eyes flit down instinctively towards his hand. They don’t. His hands are as clean as they always have been. “No… I don’t…” He answers, confused.

“And do you have any dirt on any parts of your body? I can see that you don’t.” Goro nervously checks every part because he’s sure the stranger is there to humiliate him. Says what he’s said just to hurt him.

There isn’t a speck of dirt on any parts of him. He voices this out, still as confused as before, “N-No, b-but I don’t understand how this has anyt-”

“Then you’re clean!” The stranger cuts him off. “So,” He reaches out again and this time Goro isn’t fast enough to back up. Leather meets his skin and they squeeze so excitedly that Goro doesn’t have the heart to push them away. The gloves feel as comfortably warm as Goro’s chest. “Let’s leave, Akechi-kun!”

“L-Leave?” Goro echoes questioningly.

“Yes!” The stranger pulls at his arm harder, dragging him out of the playground and into the streets. “We can go get snacks and other things, maybe your own gloves because I can tell you like mine!” A blush spreads through Goro’s cheeks.

“But I-I don’t have any money! A-And I'm supposed to be helping the daycare take care of the younger kids!”

“Well, I have plenty to spare!” The stranger laughs. And now he feels less a stranger and more Goro’s friend. Goro’s first friend. He isn’t as surprised as he should be that his only friend is just as weird as Goro is, probably weirder, with the winding bandages peeking out of the collar of a bespoke suit. He can even see some of it around his friend’s ankle and Goro wonders how far they go.

"A-ah! But-!"

"Come on, Akechi-kun! I'm sure they won't mind you missing a day!"

Goro relents reluctantly and let's the other boy drag him further away from one of the two safe places he's known, no matter how lonely he feels everyday. “Um… since you know my name… can I have yours…?” He asks timidly, afraid that one wrong move would set his newly acquired friend off. Goro doesn’t want his friend to leave him, doesn’t want to go back to the lonely days tucked away in the corner of the playground.

His friend hums, “Tsushima Shuuji~”

“T-Tsushima Shuuji?” Goro tries the name in his toungue. It’s rolls off awkwardly, as if it wasn’t meant to be spoken out loud.

“Hello Akechi Goro! I’m Tsushima Shuuji! You can call me S-Shuuji!” Shuuji smiles at him and it’s the very same smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. And if Shuuji’s name rolls off awkwardly when Goro had said it, the way Shuuji himself says it sounds completely wrong. Goro thinks the name doesn’t fit him. It fits Shuuji the way Goro fits in the daycare. Alien and very, very wrong.

His thoughts escape his mouth before his brain can filter them out.

Shuuji flinches.

Hard.

"l'm- I- Am-" There’s a lost look on his face, eyes widening, Shuuji’s breathe coming out in fast, short gasps.

And Goro knows he’s lost him. Lost his only friend the day he met him. It’s no wonder everyone thinks he’s a freak. If Goro can’t even keep one friend, one person who’s bothered to approach him, then Goro’s better off alone. He doesn’t deserve to even have a friend, let alone keep someone like Shuuji (who’s nature is bright like the sun even with his blank, blank eyes that show no emotions. Shuuji shows them in other ways, through excited touches and impatient pulls that leaves Goro reeling) to himself.

Goro knows this and he prepares himself for the hurt and rejection that’s sure to come.

But then, Shuuji composes himself and the smile is back, brighter than before. Shuuji goes back to his chatty self, talking about the activities he’s planned out for the both of them and something in Goro lifts, leaving him feeling light and warm, as he follows Shuuji into crowded stores and quiet cafés.

.

 

Futaba shakes Akechi harder than what's probably necessary, but it's not like she's putting much thought in that when Akechi had  _apparently zoned out_ because of a  _picture_. Albeit, it's quite a gruesome picture, yeah, but it's not something that could warrant zoning out. She hopes.

"I- what- Shuuji-?" Akechi stutters because he's probably still somewhere out there and wait-

" _How do you know?"_  She demand-shouts, shaking her leader harder because  _how did he know_ and she's not willing to jump to any conclusions.

"I- kno- Fut-  _Futaba stop shaking me_ _!"_ Akechi shouts back. The shaking's definitely getting to him.

"What is going on here?" Enter Sojiro. Oh God, this is getting a lot more complicated then what she was hoping it  _would not_ be.

"S-Sakura-san!" Akechi says, because if course he can't answer her but he can answer Sojiro. "This is not what it looks like!"

"Kid," Sojiro starts exasperatedly. "Why are you not in class?"

"It's cause he's helping me with something!!!" Futaba hastily answers for Akechi.

Morgana appears from where he's disappeared behind Akira's desk, plopping himself in front of Sojiro. He flops onto his back, belly up and aims large, blue eyes and at Leblanc's owner.

"What do you want?" Sojiro kneels down but not before shooting Futaba and Akechi a suspicious look.

"Curry." Morgana meows and Futaba echoes to Sojiro.

"Curry?" Sojiro asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah!" Futaba exclaims. "Morgana likes curry!"

"Sometimes, I don't know if it's really what the cat wants or it's something that you just spontaneously come up with." Sojiro grumbles. "I'll go get the curry, you kids want anything?"

"Coffee, please." Akechi pipes from somewhere behind her.

"Yeah, coffee would be nice." Futaba agrees, if obly to get Sojiro out of the attic as soon as possible; Morgana doesn't look like he's going to keep up the cute act any longer.

"Sure." Sojiro heads down stairs, leaving silence in his wake.

Morgana flips back onto his paws, padding over to the bed. "You guys owe me sushi. The real good one."

"I'll see what I can get you, Morgana." Akechi says dazedly, scratching a spot behind Morgana's ear that has him purring in delight.

"Thanks." Futaba sighs gratefully. "That was a close one. Sometimes I wish we could install a door here."

"With lock." Akechi says.

"With lock." She echoes approvingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll is it going a bit to fast? 
> 
> I don't know.
> 
> That's why I'm asking you, because it's only, like chapter 5, but like it was either this or a Goro-Ohya interaction and I can't seem to make it flow better then the way it flows in this. Do give me Constructive Critism, either here or in tumblr or something cause, again, this is NOT Beta read and it's kind of hard to judge how I should pace this when it's just my own opinion.
> 
> Sincerely, artmakira
> 
> (I'm only adding the sincerely because I feel like being serious for once, don't expect more of this.)
> 
> Next week, you get some Chuuya, FINALLY.
> 
> If you can't wait for the Chuuya then check out [Solivagant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917460) , it's a Chuuzai oneshot.
> 
> *gets shot for shameless advertisement*


	6. the world, after all, was still a place (of bottomless horror)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Most of this, I do, because of paranoia, but please heed the warning with utmost caution) 
> 
> * Severe panic attack and, I think, is quite a detailed description of gore and injury. It starts after the end of Chuuya's pov, under the first dot (.) mark that is used as a POV break. This is what the MATURE warning tag is for.
> 
> I'll put this star (*) beside the dot (.) to let you know where the warnings are aimed at.

Sometimes, Chuuya wonders if his paycheck is worth all the trouble that comes with it. Half of the time he's tempted to quit. But then he remembers all of the luxurious items (wine, mostly) that he can only afford with the mentioned paycheck and decides he can probably live with it.

Today is  _not_ one of those times.

"Nakahara-san-"

"I know." He snaps, raising his hand for silence as he takes in the scene before him. It might not be the mindless slaughter he's familiar with but it speaks volume of the one-sided fight that had most definitely happened not too long ago -maybe even just an hour or two ago. 

Five of his subordinates lay unconscious, presumably not dead, haphazardly in an alley not to far away from Shibuya station. Three of them, Chuuya recognizes, were newbies, admitted under his supervision just months ago, he's not surprised that they had end up beaten half way to hell in dirty alley. The grunts were starting to get on his nerves with how cocky they'd been acting, anyway, talking about climbing up the ranks and being placed as an executive in the next year or so. With the skills they currently have, and ability-less too? They can count themselves as good as dead.

The other two, though, were some of the few he could trust. Enough to let them do some of the high-risking jobs, but not his life.

(He could count  _those_ types of people with one hand and even then, not all of the available space would have been filled.)

Suzunozuke Eito, brown haired and usually sporting hideous  _bright orange_ gloves -the like of which Chuuya would never even glance at- was average in stature. He was, however,  _not_ average in the boxing department. Chuuya had unexpectedly scouted him from an alley not much different from the current one. Eito is currently passed out on. Now that Chuuya thinks about it, he'd found Eito nearly passed out too, actually. Starved to death as he was back then, Suzunozuke had still had the guts to _attack_   _him_.

With his  _teeth._

Needless to say, Chuuya had aided his journey to blissful unconsciousness with a blow to the back of his neck.

A year later, he'd entrusted Eito with the unraveling of a complicated job involving a drug cartel with too much confidence in their own importance and an ongoing scam. A month after that, nothing of the drug cartel was left and Eito became one of his newly appointed leaders. Not yet his right hand man, but close to it.

The title of right hand man had fallen to Fujinama Kirito, more commonly known as Rito, with an uncanny penchant for martial art. Rito, who Chuuya had trained himself for  _years_ after Chuuya had found out the hidden potential. The boy, now man, who  _Ane-san_ had taken a liking to with sleeked-back graying black hair (Chuuya has a sneaking suspicion that he's the cause of Rito's current graying problem) and an always present bow-tie.  _A bow tie_ , even  _Dazai_ had better sense then to wear a  _bow tie_ 24/7. Although the bolo tie wasn't any better, really.

( _'You're one to talk, chibi-fancy hat.'_ )

(Well, hello to you too, shitty Dazai voice.)

Even with the horror of the bow tie and all the martial arts Chuuya had bestowed upon him, Rito had somehow managed to end up with the ones beaten up near a dirt-cheap sushi store in an unnamed alley with annoying red cards covering almost every each of the walls.

"What I want to know is, who _did_ this." Chuuya snaps again. "And someone get Suzunozuke and Fujinama some first aid, God knows they need it."

They most definitely do. Out of the five, Eito looks to be the most beat up. His left leg bent at an odd angle, which, Chuuya is pretty damn sure, indicates at least a broken bone. There are some lacerations, too, bruises, a black eye and a big chance of a concussion. Fujinama might be slightly bit better in terms of external wounds but the blood leaking out of his mouth is starting to get very concerning, especially coupled with the dark purple bruises decorating his exposed chest because Rito's shirt had, for some reason, disappeared.

The goddamn bow tie is still there, unfortunately.

"And get Fujinama a shirt while you're at it."

Chuuya crouches down next to Fujinama, examining the crater his subordinate had between shoved into. It was deep. Whoever Fujinama had fought with must have had some sort of ability, may abnormal strength. Crossing out manipulation of gravity isn't an option, no matter how much Chuuya would like to do so. If someone with an ability similar to  _For the Tainted Sorrow_  is running around...

Why did he even agree to this job in the first place?

It was supposed to be a simple case of shutting down a wayward greedy punk who thought they could strong arm the Port Mafia to do some dirty work, but  _no_  the punk had to have some sort of distorted view of the world, manifesting into a stupid gaudy bank. Chuuya  _had_ to run into a couple of fucking  _teenagers_ with no  _common sense_   _whatsoever_ and their detective leader with the odd black tail coat with thin red accents looking like it'd been pulled straight out of a medieval drama and the navy dress shirt underneath. At least the pants were normal locking white slacks. Not the same could be said about the fucking weird red bird mask.

That beak could poke someone's eye out.

(He is not going to start on the broadsword.)

(Or the myriad of colourful costumes donned by the rest of the team.)

(Some of them were practically  _fetish gear.)_

And then Sakura had apparently picked up a new hobby of bothering him every few hours from the phone number she'd gotten from god knows where.

"S-Sir..."

Heh, guess the stubborn bastard couldn't stay unconscious.

"Fujinama." Chuuya addresses him, his voice soft yet steady. The concussion's probably hurting like a bitch.

'Sir, T-they-" Fujinama struggles, weakly lifting a hand to clasp at Chuuya's fluttering coat sleeve. "T-they- it w-was-" The rest of the sentence is cut of by a wet sounding cough. Ruptured lung and broken rib, Chuuya notes worriedly.

"Oi." He taps Fujinama's forehead gently, mindful of the concussion. "Report to me after you're fully conscious and not half dead."

"I..." Fujinama trails off, eye lids drooping. "Y-yes sir..." Chuuya' s convinced Rito'd drop back off to oblivion but then chocolate brown eyes snaps open and the man damn nearly headbutts Chuuya in his attempt to sit up. "IT WAS THE TRAITOR SIR!!" Fujinama shouts before slumping down in a mildly uncomfortable position. "It was the  _traitor_." He whispers vehemently as if that would give Chuuya any clue about what was going on.

"What the fuck do you mean  _traitor_ _?"_ Chuuya stresses because this type of direct confrontational approach has never been Dazai's style -but it's not as if he can actually rule the damn mackerel out of this because  _who the fuck_ ever knows what's going on in that shitty head of his. Chuuya wouldn't and he's pretty content in not knowing.

The other one he's pretty sure is behind bars right now.

"He stole my  _shirt_ ," Fujinama continues, the concussion probably getting to him. "And your  _ability_   _sir_ !" He blinks at Chuuya. "Can abilities be  _stolen_ ?" Rito gasp in a not entirely lucid way. " _Can they sir???"_ He asks and he's starting to sound vaguely panicky. " _If he can steal abilities, then does that mean he can steal my bow tie too sir??????"_  The grip on his coat sleeve returns and it's getting tighter by the minute.

" _Fujinama_." Chuuya hisses. He flicks his finger at his right hand man's forehead because concussion be damned, if Fujinama can stress over someone stealing his bow tie then he can boulder through a migraine, no matter how much it'll hurt.

The part about  _Chuuya's_ ability being stolen is a bit more concerning, though. As much as he knows, there's never been any talk about abilities being stolen, only about the very rare occasion of two people getting the same abilities; the Mimic incident had involved that sort of unnecessary complication. ' _There hasn't been anything wrong with For the Tainted Sorrow_  ,'Chuuya notes, _'except for that one brief outburst from Arahabaki at that palace or whatever.'_

Chuuya stands, coat tails flapping behind him. "Some one get them medical attention." He barks out the order. "I want Fujinama and Suzunozuke in good enough condition to report by the end of the day, latest tomorrow!" He loathes forcing his subordinated to report with such injuries because that is what  _Mori_ would do, what  _Mori has done before_ with the people under his supervision -under his  _control_.

 _'Vi_ _ta Sexualis'_ , Mori would say. And on that one horrid night, Elise hadn't been the one to answer him.

A ragged, wet breath. Blood spilling out of places it shouldn't. The eye, ears, mouth. _'Mori-san, Ch-Chuuya.'_

(He'd always wondered why Ane-san had been so protective of him when they were around Mori. He supposes he'd been better off not knowing.)

(He'd rather know than be kept in the dark.)

(Now that he does, he regrets not knowing  _sooner_.)

Maybe Dazai leaving hadn't been such a mystery after all.

And maybe that was why Chuuya hadn't been as surprised as the other executives when it had happened. He had hurt, yes, but he hadn't been  _surprised_.

Nor had Chuuya been  _fooled_.

 _'Traitors,'_ Mori lamented to him, to them, morosely, like a parent with wayward naughty kids.  _'Both of my children, all such ungrateful traitors.'_

He had to agree, outwardly, because Mori still is the boss and no matter how much he'd wanted to punch that disgusting smirk off his face, Chuuya values his life. Ane-san's hand on his shoulder had helped too.

(Deep down, Arahabaki hisses lividly,  _death._ )

(Chuuya agrees to that wholeheartedly.)

He punches the wall next him. It caves, a small scale copy of the crater Fujinama lays in. His subordinates move around him quicker, hauling Rito and Suzunozuke into Mafia-black standard cars. The other three they shove into a van. He nods at his remaining men, both as a dismissal and unspoken approval to hunt down the so-called traitor.

He's got a shitty fish to check in on.

(Assuming Dazai hasn't died in his skirmish with Dostoevsky.)

. *

Ren draws in a shaky breath, chest heaving from the effort it took to run from the (scary, scary, he can't let them catchhimnot _anymore_ -) men.

His skin hurts, itches, _burns._

"Make it stop..." He pleads -to who, Ren doesn't know, he just wants it to  _stop burning why is it BURNING?_

Fingers brush over skin littered with second degree burns. Ren flinches. Wonder-filled eyes take in the blood ( _there's so many_ ) and he digs his nails in, in,  _in._ Burnt skin gives away to flesh giving way to the dull glint of white bone. Ren surpresses another flinch because he _wasn't supposed to feel pain, Mori-san said so-_

 _'What will your enemies think, hmm?'_ The snake hisses, slithers up, up into his  _mind_ -

"STOP!!" Ren shouts because he  _knows_ fear will only draw the snake to him more, "STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP. STOPSToPStopstop _stopmakeitstop_ -" His sobs die to whimpering sniffles as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. His hands move to cover his ears, pull at his hair. Stars explode behind his eyes when he bangs his head backwards, the brick an unforgiving force under his skull. " _Stop thinking or you. will. lose."_

The snake stills in his mind's eye, confused hissing echoing, ' _Where are you?'_   it says, eyes demanding and sharp, ' _Where are you?'_

Ren whimpers when his wound brushes over the fabric of his white -no red, it's red now, turtleneck. He pulls at it, chocking on a scream when his back burns andburst in a series of fireworks and crippling pain.

 _'AKIRA!'_ Ren wails in his mind, his voice following raspy and raw, "A-Akira-aa, pl-ease, plea-se I-I c-can't-"He dissolves back into sobs when his wounds bleed a new. They are different from the burns: thin, deep scratches forming the same words -words that he can't fully read because of how marred they've become, can only glean bits of kanji, カード, from the mess- over and over again lining his arm from the wrist to the elbow. _They're small,_ Ren notes absently, his mind whirls, shatters because these wound don't form without intention and he  _doesn't know where these are from did HE do them- did Mori-_

Ren tears into them, widening thin lines into gaping rivers pouring blood on to the red concrete beneath him. Pain grounds him and Ren laughs, suddenly giddy, crazed,  _insane_.

He laughs, laughs until he looses his voice because  _Shuuji had left him, left Ren to drown in sweet poison dripping from the maw of the serpent-_

And Akira will too.

 _'Maybe he already has.'_ Ren thinks as his vision tunnels and he slips into blissful, dreaded oblivion.

.

Futaba watches Morgana lap at the curry happily.

A mug of rapidly cooling coffee sits in between her hands. It's been about half-an-hour now. The clock stricking 3 a few minutes ago.

"I just- I just don't get how you- you-" She struggles.

"Know him?" Akechi ammends, sipping his own coffee. "He was my first friend, Futaba, before... before everything."

"Before everything?" She asks.

"Before everything." Akechi confirms vaguely. There's a click click of his phone that suggest he's texting someone.

"Before everything  _what_?" She asks again, hoping Akechi would elaborate. Her back in turned towards him so she doesn't know what kind of expression he's making. She guesses it's a complicated one.

"I..." Akechi trails off. "I don't quite know how to explain this..."

"Before the Phantom Thieves then?"

"Before Tokyo, actually." Akechi murmurs. 

Silence envelope them again. It's the uncomfortable kind; the one that with unspoken words lingering about.

"Before Tokyo, Goro?" Morgana asks once he's done with his curry. He jumps on to Futaba's lap, curling up snugly in the space between her legs. Futaba's hands move to brush his fur instinctively.

"I..." There's a rustle of fabrics behind Futaba. Akechi appears in her line of view minutes later. He sits on the floor in front of her and Morgana, legs crossing to mimic her own posture. Futaba glances up at him, questions dancing behind green eyes. Akechi heaves a sigh.

"There's... a lot I haven't told any of you."

"Yeah, I figured." Futaba mutters, trying to come of as nonchalantly as she can. It probably came of a lot more bitter then she intended it to be. "It's not like you know us long enough to spill your life secrets."

"For all it's worth, I apologize Futaba." Akechi says. Futaba can hear the sincere apology in his voice, she opens her mouth to reply but Akechi beats her. "For not spilling some of my, ah, life secrets," His tone comes of a lot more mischievous then it ought to be considering their current situation, but she gets it -it's one the many quirk Akechi seems to have, trying to lighten up a situation with voice tones. Futaba smirks at him, she doesn't quite trust herself to quip back at him, yet.

Akechi sombers up after their brief exchange. "I... suppose I can entrust the both of you with one, then?"

"What bout the rest?" Futaba asks. Morgana peeks out from under her fingers.

"The rest, I will only tell when it is truly necessary." Akechi says grimly. "To be completely honest, I'm still quite hesitant in telling you any of this, but since Morgana  _is_ currently a  _cat_. I suppose it won't be as dangerous.  _You_ , on the other hand, Futaba, I'm only willing to tell because you're already partially in on it."

"I get that this is about Tsushima Shuuji, but why is he so... dangerous?" Futaba asks curiously.

Akechi closes his eyes. "First of all, do you know  _anything_ about the Port Mafia?"

"It's where Nakahara comes from, and." She pauses. "It's where Tsushima Shuuji came from too...?" She furrows her brow. "At least, that's what whoever the hacker was had told me."

"Anything else, then?" Akechi nudges her gently.

"They're definitely some sort of Mafia. that's obvious." She continues. "And they're based in... Yokohama...?"

Akechi nods encouragingly.

"There are several key members to them. There's... Nakahara," She mentions, voice growing more confident. "And... some guy called... Akutagawa? I got his picture from some news shoved into the corners of the internet. Took me  _hours_ to find it, took me another few hours to connect it with a guy from the Port Mafia database. That guy's got an ability too. Something about his coat eating everything in his path. They have several people as executives, Nakahara's one of them and also someone named Ozaki Kouyou. She's been spotted around Yokohama in traditional kimonos here and there. She has an ability too, I think it's called Golden Demon? Tacky names." The last part, she mutter quietly, before continuing back in her normal tone. "Also, they obviously have a boss, although there's nothing I can find out about that guy. And, some of the members, don't know how many, have abilities, kinda like Nakahara, too."

Akechi looks at her, head tilted in a curious manner. "That... that  _is_ quite a lot of information you have there, even  _I_ don't quite know who this... Akutagawa... is and I work as a detective."

"Yeah, I guess that's to be expected, don't think the Tokyo Police Force would want to be tangled up in that sort of trouble," Futaba agrees. "Even the Yokohama one doesn't want too. Apparently there's this separate group of people who deal with that sort supernatural stuff? They're called the... ADA, Armed Detective Agency or something."

Futaba looks up to find Akechi staring at her. "What?" She asks.

"You, Futaba -I'm  _very_ glad you're on our side." Akechi huffs out. "I can't imagine  _what_ would happen had we ever have to go against  _you_."

"Mwehehehe." Futaba snickers. "You are right! Don't ever piss me off, then, Crow! No, but really, what brought that up?"

"That is a frightening amount of information you've gathered from just a picture and the name of the group."

Futaba blinks at him owlishly. "It wasn't that... hard? I didn't even get to hack into the Port Mafia database much. I just searched around, hacked into some legit looking newspaper. Oh! I  _did_ hack into... the... uh, government files..." She laughs sheepishly, freeing one of the hands that had been petting Morgana to scratch at the back of her head. Morgana gives a protesting mewl at the loss of stimulation. He pauses mid-way, Futaba's words sinking in.

"YOU HACKED INTO THE GOVERNMENT????" Morgana yowls at her, about the same time Akechi whisper-yells, having enough self-control to not bring Sojiro up to the attic.

"I covered my tracks!!!" Futaba whisper-yells back, she was not in the mood to get lectured  _again_. "A-Anyway, weren't you going to tell me about your life secret???"

"Oh, yeah!" Morgana's head snaps towards Akechi's direction, completely forgetting Futaba hacking the government in favour of listening to life secrets.

" _Futaba_." Akechi hisses, to stubborn to get side-tracked, " _What else do you know?"_

 _"_ Nothing else about the Port Mafia, several things about the ADA." Futaba pipes in, hoping the mention of a rival supernatural group would distract her leader.

"The ADA... maybe not now," Akechi pauses. "Do you have anything on Tsushima Shuuji?"

"No, there's like,  _nothing_ about him. Nothing at all." She pouts her lip, forehead creased in confusion. "It's like they're deliberately trying to... erase him. I knew about Akutagawa and Ozaki Kouyou even _before_ I got the picture."

Akechi hums. "Alright then..."

"Oh! One more thing," She reaches for her discarded laptop. "There's this one guy I found, he's in the ADA, he looks  _a lot_ like Tsushima Shuuji. Like everything appearance-wise, here-"

Akechi moves closer to her, their knees close to touching. There's a picture on the laptop, and he  _does_  look like Tsushima Shuuji. Eventhe  _bandages_ fit the profile. Futaba guesses whoever it was that had hacked her is from the Port Mafia, because no outsider would have information they had on Nakahara's movement, or the photo.  She read in the files that the Port Mafia had two cases of executive level betrayal, there hadn't much specifications on the  _whens_ and  _hows_ , unsurprisingly, the Port Mafia would definitely want to sweep something that large under the rug. However, there had been one information they probably couldn't hide, the  _who_  - and one of them had been Dazai Osamu.

Dazai Osamu, the file had read, Port Mafia's youngest executive, betrayed them at the age of 18 and went into hiding, he'd reemerged, siding with the Armed Detective Agency, four years later.

And, that was it. There was no other information, none about his ability -if he even has one. It's a similar case to Tsushima Shuuji's, although less severe, and Futaba would bet her life savings that these two were the same person, except-

"Dazai Osamu?" Akechi says.

"What?!" Futaba jerks back suddenly, dislodging Morgana from her lap. "How'd you know?? First Tsushima Shuuji and then  _this guy_ too??? Are you, like, from the  _Port Mafia?_ _"_

Akechi looks at her like she's grown another head, which is  _not_ fair because Futaba's supposed to be the one looking at him like  _he_ 's grown a second head.

"You tell me,  _I'm_ the one with too much information, but  _you_ _'re_ the one spawning names here and there unprompted???" Futaba exclaims. "How do you even know about this guy??" She gestures towards the picture in her laptop. "Even the _Government_ were super hush-hush about it. There wasn't any information about him aside from their's???"

Akechi raises his hands in defense. "I told you Shuuji is -was my first friend, didn't I?" He stumbles over his words.

Futaba nods anxiously.

Akechi says slowly, "Well, Shuuji had told me-" He made a face.

"Yeah...? Told you what?" Morgana pipes in.

Akechi stands and heads towards the bed. He picks something up before returning to his previous position. Futaba glances at the red in his hands -the gloves. He fiddles with them for a moment, before answering,

"Before we get to how I know about Dazai Osamu, Let me tell you about Tsushima Shuuji, first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Ren happened.
> 
> Here have an Omake to cheer you up.
> 
> (meanwhile, somewhere in Shibuya while Ren is suffering in an alley- *breaks down crying*)
> 
> "What do you fucking mean you've been shot, you shitty fucking mackerel??" Chuuya shouts over the phone. It scares a few birds out of their perch in the trees. It scares a few humans from their seats in a nearby restaurant, too.
> 
> "Maaaaa~ Chuuuyyaaa~, you're going start to greying if you don't calm dowwnnn~" Dazai's slightly scratchy voice sounds over the phone, the bastard probably overused it trying to charm the nurse into giving him his phone in the hospital. All just so Chuuya can call him. Such dedication. Much awe.
> 
> Shitty bastard probably waited days while stuck in a hospital, with a fucking bullet hole somewhere, for Chuuya to call.
> 
> Tall bastard probably also knew Chuuya was going to call him, because Tokyo is getting fucked up for some reason.
> 
> Chuuya knows better.
> 
> He doesn't know not to do something less then that better, though, so call away he did.
> 
> "I'm going to fucking strangle you myself when I get back to Yokohama!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
> 
> "But, hatrackkk~~~ I didn't get shot on purposeeeee~~~ Ushanka Hat Demon shot me!!!!" Dazai pauses, something cracks behind Chuuya. A few pigeons failed to escape and is crushed under the force that is Nakahara Chuuya's anger management issues. "Hey! Maybe you can bond over ugly hat trends with him, Chuu-ya!!"
> 
> The poor Shiba-Inu lingering to mark his territory faces the tragic faith of face-to-piss meeting.
> 
> (this was made entirely for fun, please treat it as crack. It might or might not have happened in the somewhere along the line, though.)
> 
> Next week, we'll have chibi Goro and, as wiccanapprentice had put it, the dominoes will start to fall.


	7. fireflies (flitting over a pond)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn more about Goro and Shuuji! (A.K.A Shit hits the fan - past edition)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mori's questionable conditioning and ability 
> 
> *Non-consensual body possession, force of will, coercion and also panic attack.
> 
> (I'll put this a star (*) beside the dot (.) to let you know which part it's going to be in.)

"Ne, Akechi-kun." Shuuji hums, he pulls Goro past windows with beautiful decorations and mannequins wearing gorgeous clothes to show case the current trends. Shuuji parks them in front of a store with multitudes of boots arranged on the display table. There are so many variations: heeled ones; ones that cover the ankles snugly; there's even one that looked like it would break if someone so much as places a foot in it. Goro stares at them, eyes glittering with awe, he would've have glued his cheek to the glass had Shuuji not pulled him back. "What do you wanna do first?" Shuuji asks, kicking his right foot back and forth. His expensive, high-grade leather clad foot.

"Um... I-I don't know S-Shuuji..." Goro says hesitantly. He instinctively looks down at his own dusty, worn sneakers self-consciously. Teeth digs into lips. "E-er, S-Shuuji... are you-you sure about... about u-us..." Goro curls into himself. Already he can feel the stares from the adults meandering around the both of them. He doesn't like how it feels piercing into his skin, judging and insulting all at once. He doesn't like the whispered words that reaches his ear, either.

"-see that child? Yes! The one in  _those clothes_ , he's so  _filthy_ -"

"-hah? what is  _he_ doing with that  _dirty little thing-"_

"-the one in that gorgeous coat must have taken pity-"

"-if  _I_ was his parent, I would  _never_ -"

" _-it's such a pity-"_

"- probably a charity case-"

"-pity-"

Goro's breath hitches. He bites his lip harder, sharp teeth digging into vulnerable flesh and Goro can almost taste the blood-

"What do you think, Akechi-kun?" Shuuji's soft voice cuts through the haze. A pair of shiny,  _new_ , sneakers enter his line of sight.

Goro blinks at him, confusion settling in -when did they enter the store. "A-ah?"

"Do you like these ones?" Shuuji beams at him, this time his smile reaches his eyes, even just a little bit, and he looks less dead.

There's a women standing patiently by them, all polite smiles and clasp hands, ready to serve. It's part of her job, Goro knows that. She's not here because of him, the woman in the sharp attendant attire is here for  _Shuuji_. The shoes are too, of course, there's no way something so  _nice_ would ever be Goro's. 

But he _likes_ them, and they look so soft -so comfortable compared to his old ones. And yet-

They fit Shuuji, the fit him in the weird way his gloves does and Goro answers as honestly as he can, breath stuck somewhere in his lungs. "Y-yeah... They..."

"Fit you, Akechi-kun!" Shuuji exclaims. "I'm glad you like them, because these are yours now!" Shuuji catches the attendants attention with a flick of his wrist, handing her the display shoes. "Can I have your shoe size?"

Goro answers dazedly, he's not even sure  _what_ he'd said but there's another pair of the same boots placed in front him. These ones are bigger. Shuuji beckons him to sit on one of the (probably very expensive leather) cushioned stools. Goro follows, still stuck somewhere in cloud nine, those shoes-

He feels his foot slip into one, and then the other.

And,  _oh God_ , they're softer than they looked and Goro doesn't even know how that's possible.

Someone claps their hands beside him and-oh it's Shuuji, "Alright then! He really likes it Miss! We'll get this one! And I can guess he's going to want to wear them directly- yes, of course." Shuuji grins at him mischievously before he's whisked away to the paying counter.

Wait-

Paying... counter...?

_'Fit you, Akechi-kun!'_

_'Alright then! He really likes it Miss! We'll get this one!'_

"S-Sh _uujii!!!"_

_._

Goro leaves the store with a different pair of feet. Where there was aching, these pair are nice and comfortable. They don't feel like his feet.

"A-ke-chi-ku-un." Shuuji drawls. "You okay there?"

Goro likes at him dazedly. "U-uh, yeah..?"

Shuuji looks at him incredulously. "Akechi-kun, was that a yes or a no?"

"Y-Yes!"

A paper bag is handed to him. There's a box in it. Goro takes it from Shuuji with the only hand that listens to his brain -the other one doesn't seem to want to respond very well. "What is this?" Goro asks.

"These are your old shoes." Shuuji says, skipping steps next to him. "If you want them back."

Oh.

Goro nods.

"Ne, Akechi-kun, you're a bit dazed there, you sure you're okay?" Shuuji moves ahead of him, stopping right in front of Goro. He tilts his head in a way that reminds Goro of a curious cat. "Are you getting sick?"

"Huh, what- No!" Goro denies, shaking his hands to further his almost incoherent statement.

"Okay then! Let's go in this one!" Shuuji drags him into another store. This one a lot smaller then the shoe store they went in previously. An array of different kinds of glasses are shown on the display tables.

"W-why glasses, Shuuji?" Goro asks. Neither of them need glasses, so he doesn't understand the point of looking for one.

"Ah, I just want to look around." He picks one up -it's black and has a wide rim, silver lines the edge of the frames. Shuuji places the glasses on the bridge of his nose gently and turns to Goro. "What do you think?"

Honestly, Goro thinks they look weird on Shuuji. "They hide your eyes." He says.

"But do they look good on me?" Shuuji presses on.

"They look weird."

Shuuji pouts. He takes them off and places them back on the table. "Akechi-kun is  _me-eann_."

"E-eh?? It's t-true!!" Akechi exclaims hastily. "B-but if you l-like them then-" He tries to amend but Shuuji cuts him off.

"Just kidding!" Shuuji pulls him out of the store and into the cold fall air of Yokohama. "Do you like tailcoats, Akechi-kun? I think they'd look good on you!"

.

It's already two hours past Goro's usual lunch period by the time they're done. Goro is carrying a multitude of shopping bags -probably more than what a 12 year old child should be able to carry. There's a bag filled with a black, form-fitted tail coat that Shuuji had impulse-bought for Goro. Several others are filled with clothes from GU, Uniqlo and other more high-end shops. The clothes ranges from hoodies to shirt and jackets. Goro's sure there are some pants in it, too.

"Um... Shuuji..?" Goro starts hesitantly, he shakes the bags in his arms. "What are all these for?"

"Eh? It's for you Akechi-kun." Shuuji turns to look at Goro. "I thought you knew that?"

"But- are you sure?" Goro asks. "You've already bought these shoes for me." He wiggles one foot to show the sneakers. "A-and they must be really expensive, too..."

"Eh, yeah," Shuuji answers nonchalantly. "Besides, I told you I've got money to spare."

"W-what mone-" 

"Let's eat here, Akechi-kun!" Shuuji gestures towards a Kushi-katsu store. "Have you ever eaten Kushi-katsu before?"

. *

Shuuji balances himself on the white, metal fence next to Goro. It's evening now, the sun almost touching the horizon. Shuuji had dragged him around Yokohama the whole afternoon and they'd finally ended up in Yamashita park.

"Shuuji, I don't think that's safe!" Goro grabs onto Shuuji sleeves, readying himself to catch his friend when Shuuji would, inevitably, fall. Hopefully they wouldn't end up on the sea side of the fence. His arms are aching from the how long he had to carry the bags around, Goro doesn't think he would be able to swim back up to the surface if they ended up falling there, let alone drag Shuuji up too.

"I'll be fine, Akechi-kun~" Shuuji grins at him. "But! Since it's Akechi-kun, I'll stop." He hops down and reaches for the bags on Goro's left arm. Goro hands it to him gratefully, stretching his arm to sort out the ache. He follows Shuuji to a nearby bench, plopping down next to his friend with a relieved sigh.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, before Goro decides he's had enough of wondering where all of Shuuji's money came from.

"Ne, Shuuji, you haven't told me where all of your money comes from."

"That's rude, Akechi-kun!" Shuuji points out.

Goro purses his lips. "Sorry..."

"If you really want to know it's-" Shuuji pauses, he suddenly sounds a lot more hesitant then he ever had before.

Goro looks at him curiously.

"It's Mor- It's my..." Shuuji bites his lips, face scrunching in a mirror of Goro's own expression in from of the shoe store. He wrings his finger, it's the first gesture of nervousness he's seen from Shuuji

"...my g-guard-" Shuuji manages to stutter out. He stops and draws in a deep, shuddering breath. "...my boss." Shuuji finishes quietly, eyes downcast.

"Your boss? You're already  _working_ _??_ Shuuji, you're 12 years-old!" Goro says with all the tact of his, slightly older then Shuuji-12-year-old self. It doesn't quite matter that Goro himself is technically working in the daycare, helping the kind teachers watch the younger children. He doesn't think it much a chore really, it keeps him occupied from how different his family is from all the other happy ones he's seen pick up the younger occupants of the daycare. He... likes it there.

(and it's as much of a lie as the smile he's learned to fake on his face everyday. At least it keeps his mother from worrying.)

"...the mafia ages you by five years..." Shuuji mutters, equally as quiet as when he admitted the source of his seemingly unending supply of money.

"The  _Mafia_ _?"_ Goro chokes on his own breath. He stares at his friend. "S-Shuuji?"

"....I don't want to talk about it..." Shuuji curls into himself, pulling his legs to his chest. He crosses his arms over his knees and rest his chin on top of them, staring into the rolling waves. Goro doesn't like the look in his eyes -blank and dead. They remind him of the fish he'd seen the daycare lady buy from the store.

"I-" Goro starts but Shuuji cuts him before Goro can say anything else.

"I don't want to talk about it, please, Goro? It's supposed to be my day off..." He buries his face between his arms. "I don't want to think about... _him_."

"But- Shuuji, the  _Mafia???"_ Goro presses, again. He knows he's not supposed too, but if Shuuji is from the Mafia then-

Shuuji jumps to his feet, the bags tumbling down from where they'd been perched precariously on the edge of the bench. " _A_ _kechi, I don't want to talk about it._ _"_ Shuuji grits his teeth, eyes wide and frightened, like a cornered animal's. Goro  _hates_ it more then he hates the blank gaze Shuuji usually has. "Please don't make me think about  _him_ , please Goro, not here- not with  _you_. I don't-"

" _Who,_ Shuuji,  _who???"_ Goro forces out of himself, jumping to his feet to match Shuuji. He's scared - _for_ Shuuji or  _of_ Shuuji, Goro doesn't know, all he knows is that he's  _scared_. Shuuji may be his friend, but the tales his mother had spun of people, of the mafia and, the politician, the man (his supposed  _father_ ) still haunts him

( _'Akechi_ , _'_ His mother had called him, she's never called him by his first name before, never  _Goro_.  _'never cross paths with anyone of power, be it a politician or the mafia_.' She warned him, that one night.  _'they will ruin you as they had ruined **me**.'_ _)_

" _MORI_ _!!!"_ Shuuji shouts at him, his fist clenched by his side, knuckles white, small chest heaving. Shuuji's coat had fallen somewhere, or maybe it'd been thrown. The air feels heavy, pressurized like the sky itself is pushing heavily down on Goro, wanting to pin him to the ground, never to move again. There's a glow around Shuuji, words circling him. The unmistakable smell of burnt flesh and cloth, and Goro chokes, loosing his breath, and he can't  _breathe-_

Everything eases off of him at once, as sudden as a crack of thunder.

" _Mo-_ r- _ii-_ san." Shuuji's voice cracks and he clutches at his head, fingers digging into his hair. "No-  _no- pl_ e _as_ e no _oo_..." He moans miserably, pulling at the strands of his hair so hard Goro is afraid they'll be ripped right of off Shuuji's scalp.

Goro pulls himself up, reaching for his friend. Shuuji snarls at him, teeth barred.

"Get away from me!!" Shuuji shouts. And then he's gasping, chocking, fingers moving to claw at his own throat. His eyes flash at Goro, and Goro can see, can  _feel_ the fear radiating of off him.

And then it's gone, leaving just as suddenly as the overbearing pressure had.

Shuuji relaxes, hands falling to his side. He tilts his head forwards, curled bangs falling to hide his eyes.

Goro reaches for him again but Shuuji is faster and he's suddenly so close to Goro, eyes flashing a reddish-violet before returning to how they normally are. He smirks at Goro. It's _menacing,_ so sinister it makes Goro's whole body shudder.

"Ah, you must be Akechi Goro-kun!" Shuuji's mouth moves. It's Shuuji's voice but it's not  _Shuuji_.

(Or maybe it is, and Shuuji has never been  _Shuuji_ , and maybe this body belongs to someone else, maybe his friend has always been a different person lost in a world to cruel for them.)

Shuuji's breath hitches, eyes squeezed shut. He swings away from Goro. "Mori-san,  _please_ ," Shuuji pleads so quietly, Goro would have missed it had he not already been listening. "Please don't drag him into  _any of this."  
_

His expression morphs again but his eyes remain stubbornly shut. "Oh, but  _Shuuji-kun,_ why should I listen to  _you?_ You've been such. a. bad. boy _."_

"I'll be good, Mori-san, please, I'll be  _good-"_ It's Shuuji again. He shudders.

"Mah, I suppose I could make an exception for your little friend, after all he seems very important to you. Will you do tonight's job, then?"

"Y-yes, I will, Mori-san, I  _promise_ I will, just please  _don't drag him into anything_ -"

Shuuji -no, it's  _Mori-san,_ this time- grins at him, and _God_ , it's  _scary- mutilated_  and says, "Why,  _Thank you,_ Akechi Goro _-_ kun _,_ Shuuji-kun would  _never_ have listened to me, otherwise."

Mori leaves, Goro thinks he leaves, _hopes_ he leaves, and Shuuji drops to his knees like a puppet with cut strings, chest heaving with sobs, his anguished scream echoing in Goro's head, haunting him like his mother's heavy words still does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnn, here we go. (Nervously clasp hands together). This is a slow chapter.
> 
> (Okay, so, a question for ya'll Soukoku fans, I am very much tempted to make a Fashion Designer/Model AU, should I?)


	8. the forest lights up (burns down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuuji apologizes for some asinine reason Goro doesn't get then he drags Goro into one last store. (A.K.A Shit hits the fan - past edition THE CONTINUATION)
> 
> (Shoves fluff down your throat because there has been to much angst lately.)

Goro watches Tsushima Shuuji cry for a good long while, teetering the line between running away or comforting the other boy.

(-because what even  _was_ that, a possesion? Something supernatural -he doesn't  _know_ , and he doesn't know if it's even safe to entangle himself more with the world Shuuji lives in, one that's entirely different from Goro's own -but Shuuji is his  _friend_ \---)

(- _is he, really?_ )

_'Yes,'_ Goro thinks, wrestling the wispy snake slithering in his mind, silencing it's insidious hiss, stopping the forked tongue licking hesitation into his heart. Fear has always been a bittersweet drug -one that Goro will not let rule him lest they both face consequences too dire to even think about. ' _Shuuji **is** my friend.'_

(Somewhere, he knows such conviction and dedication to a boy he's only known for a day, knows little to nothing about, is unhealthy and  _freakish_ but he can't help but cling to the only bright point in his life -even if Shuuji himself is drowning in shadows.)

Renewed vigor fills him but he's still hesitant, so he approaches Shuuji carefully. It feels much like approaching the injured cat he'd found in an alley beside the daycare a few months back. Like the cat, Shuuji hisses at him, the effect dampened from the mucus dripping down his nose. He jerks when Goro comes close enough to reach him. Shuuji wipes away at the tears and snot with the cuffs of his shirt, indirectly soiling the bandages wrapped around his wrist, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Goro hands him a tissue. Shuuji blows his nose, it's an ugly, wet sounding kind of noise.

Goro isn't fast enough to suppress the chuckle that escapes him.

Shuuji glares at him weakly, his breath still hitching from the small hiccups that always comes after crying. "Akechi-kun is a  _meanie."_ Shuuji says, before falling silent once more, eyes dropping to stare at his own two hands. 

Goro wraps the snot-ridden with another tissue and moves to throw it in the trash. He fast-walks back to Shuuji and kneels down in front of him, trying to catch Shuuji's eyes. His friend won't meet him, expression hidden from the way his bangs fall over half his face.

They're silent, only the periodical _tick-tick_ of Shuuji's wrist watch and the ocean's waves hitting the rocky wall accompanying them. All the birds were gone.

"I..." They both say at the same time. Goro looks at Shuuji, letting Shuuji say what he wants to, first.

Shuuji chews on his bottom lips. "...I'm sorry..." He says hesitantly. "For-"

Goro surges forward and grabs at Shuuji shoulder, shaking him harshly. "What are you apologizing for, Shuuji?"

"Y-you,  _He_ knows about you now and it's because of  _me_ ," Shuuji hisses, self-loathing clear in his tone. " _I_ led him to you and it's  _dangerous,_ Goro,  _he's_ dangero-"

"No!!" Goro shouts, because  _god damnit_ , why won't Shuuji  _understand_. "It's not your fault!"

"But, you're scared now, aren't you, Akechi-kun?"

Air rushes out of Goro's mouth in a gasp. "What...?"

"You're scared now, of  _me_ _,"_ Shuuji repeats. "Not surprisingly really, even  _Ren_ is scared of me, hah-" He laughs bitterly. "How can you be scared of your own s-"

Shuuji stops when Goro tackles him. They both tumble down, holding on to each other in a tangle of limbs, stopping once they hit the ground. Shuuji is under him, eyes wide and hair fanned out messily. Goro buries his face in the junction between Shuuji's neck and shoulders. "I'm sorry-" He says, "I'm sorry, Shuuji it's my fault, I shouldn't have pushed you-"

"What, Akechi-kun, no..." Shuuji tries to dislodge himself, but Goro holds on tighter.

"It's my fault," Goro lifts his head to look at his friend properly. "It's my fault  _because_ I pushed you when you've clearly said that you didn't want to talk about it. So, it's my fault that, that-  _guy_ found out about me. And it's my fault that you were forced to do a job you've been avoiding, especially on your... day off."

Shuuji blinks up at him. "You're 13 years-old Akechi-kun, you can't have known."

"And you're 12, Shuuji, no matter that the  _mafia_." Goro spits the world out in disgust. He eyes Shuuji apologetically when his friend flinches. "ages you by 5 years." He continues, gaze unwavering. "You're still  _12_ , like me, so if you say it's not my fault -then it's not your fault, either."

Shuuji looks away. "...okay."

Goro sighs and tilts his friend'd head back to his direction. "Look me in the eyes and say that again?"

"I..." Shuuji's eyes flit to anything and everything except Goro's face."

"Eye contact, Shuuji." Goro says, gently.

Shuuji hesitates before finally meeting Goro's wine-red eyes. "...okay." He say, and then he repeats, louder. "Okay." Goro can still see the doubt in Shuuji's eyes but he let's it go. Take small steps first. Standing up from where he'd fallen on top of Shuuji, Goro stretches out his limbs. He offers Shuuji a hand.

Shuuji accepts.

Once they're both clean from the dust and dirt that had gathered, they trudged back to the bench, picking up Shuuji coat along the way.

We have to clean that up..." Goro gestures to the bags that had fallen. He moves to pick up the fallen articles of clothing and starts shoving them into random bags. Shuuji helps him, albeit slower and more meticulous. There wasn't very much to clean, but they did it slowly -Goro eyeing his friend once in a while. He lets Shuuji gather his shattered composure, hiding back behind a mask he's painstakingly built.

The sun is starting to set once they're done. Shuuji glances at his watch and sighs, "It's almost 6'oclock..."

Goro nods, picking up the remaining bags still safely perched on the bench. "Should we head back...?"

Shuuji shakes his head sideways. "There's one more place I want to show you, before we head back. Is there anyone waiting for you in the day care?"

"My mom should be picking me up, but she usually arrives at around 6:30." Goro answers.

"Your mom still picks you up?" Shuuji smirks at him, it's different from Mori's smirk -more friendly and playful.

"Eh, we live far away, and it's complicated."

Shuuji hums, swinging on his heels as he waits for Goro to finish up. Goro a shoves several bags towards Shuuji, "You're helping me carry these!"

Shuuji steps out of Goro's reach with a giggle, "Nooooo, those are yours! You have to carry them yourself, Akechi-kun!"

"Ughh," Goro groans exasperatedly. "Fine."

"Shall we then?" Shuuji smiles at him tentatively.

Goro smiles back.

.

Goro let's awareness filter back to him, anchoring him to Leblanc, to Futaba and Morgana, to the present. 

"Back then, I didn't know he was from the Port Mafia." He informs her, " Just that he was part of the mafia."

"That's..." Futaba trails off, at a loss for words for once. She traces the rim of her cup, appearing to be deep in thoughts.

Morgana pads from where he had moved half-way through Goro's retelling, he brushes himself to the side of Goro's arm, finally settling next to Goro.

Blue eyes blinks up at him sympatheticly, "It sounded like a lot had happened in that park, Goro..."

"Ah, yes, it did..."

"What actually happened?" Futaba asks him.

Goro takes a moment to gather his thoughts, eventually coming up with nothing to say, he shrugs instead.

"But, that... it sounded like something that came out of a horror movie!" She exclaims, hands swinging after she puts her cup down on the floor. Futaba switches between moods so fast it makes Goro's heas spin, sometimes. But he can see the thinly veiled anxiety in her eyes.

"I wonder if he was ever okay after that..." Futaba's whisper comes out pained. Her memories of her mother are acting up, Goro notes worriedly.

"Futaba... are you okay?" Goro reaches for her, voice gentle.

She laughs jerkily, pushing her glasses out of the way to wipe at her eyes. "It's funny how you're asking me if I'm okay. I should be the one doing that, couldn't have been easy, recalling something that scary."

Goro smiles at her fondly, "It's been years, Futaba, I'm fine."

Futaba hums, clearly unconvinced.

He's staring into the swirling black of his coffee when Morgana twitches. "So... if Tsushima Shuuji is from the Port Mafia... and..." Morgana stops, hesitant to say his next words. Goro nudges him encouragingly. "...and, um, Mori... is his boss, does that mean Mori is the Port Mafia's boss...?"

"...Mo...ri...?" Futaba mumbles, forehead scruncing and eyes squinting in the usual way that suggest she's deep in thoughts, has caught on to something interesting that will lead her into sleepless nights of wondering. "...why is it familiar?"

"Familiar?" Goro tilts his head at her curiously. He keeps his face pleasent and open even with the all to familar hate welling up inside of him.

"Umhn..." Her forehead scrunches up more and Goro worries it's going to giver her permanent wrinkles. "Nevermind." She says, waving the stray thought away, letting it drift back into the corners of her mind for her to dissect again in the privacy of her room.

"Ehhh?" Morgana whines. "You can't just leave it like that???"

Futaba huffs at him before turning to Goro. "What happened next?" She asks scooting closer to him.

"Ah, well," Goro fiddles with the gloves again. "He took me to somewhere quite unexpected."

.

The last place that Shuuji wanted to show him turns out to be a special store for gloves. Very expensive ones.

"S-Shuuji?" Goro looks at him incredulously. "Are you sure M-he won't mind?"

Shuuji looks at him, surprise painting his face before it quickly melts into a mischievous expression. He shows Goro his wallet. 

There is a  _lot_ of money in there. Two cards gleam in the holders.

"Eh, it's his own fault for not taking care of his credit card," Shuuji smiles at his secretively. "Or his password. Besides, it's easy enough to bribe Elise with a few candies. Even if she is an extension of Mori, himself." The last part Shuuji grumbles quietly. "It's not like he'll miss a few hundred thousand yens anyway..."

"He didn't look to happy back... back in Yamashita Park, are you sure  _you'll_ be okay?" Goro asks again. He's still unconvinced that the person calloused enough to take over Shuuji's body to threaten Shuuji, himself, using  _Goro_ , wouldn't mind having his money stolen from under his nose. "...you know, when he finds out?"

Shuuji sighs, he pulls out a black card from the left holder, playing with it. The card is shoved front side first into Goro's line of sight. There's a name etched on the bottom corner - _Kobayashi Hideo,_ it reads.

"Who's is that?" Goro asks curiously.

"My colleague's!" Shuuji answers excitedly. "Heh! He probably doesn't even know it's gone!" He beams at Goro. "I've had this for  _days_ , been using it for days too."

"You... really like using other people's money, don't you Shuuji?" Goro chuckles fondly.

"Yeah! And, besides, it's not like he needs it all anyway." Shuuji pouts at him, forehead scrunching up.

_'Cute.'_ Goro thinks. He swipes the thought away. "Why won't... Kobayashi-san...? Why won't he need it?" He says, instead, forcing the blush forming on his cheeks.

 "Ehh? Hearing you call him Kobayashi-san sounds soooo weird," Shuuji whines at him. "You make him sound so o~oldd. Ane-san told me he's only 18. And he's really, really short -even _I'm_ a few centimeters taller then him."

Goro blinks at Shuuji. _'Ane_ _-san? Someone from the mafia?' Why is Shuuji throwing around information about the mafia so casually?  How is someone's height relevant there?'_ "He has a -"

"You know, this whole conversation is inconsequential, but eh -a fake name and age can do you wonders in the underground. It's not like there's someone who would risk their own life to question anyone from where I'm from." Shuuji shrugs his shoulders, his coat moving fluidly with the motion. "Anyway, I promised you a pair, right?"

Shuuji quickly pulls him out of the sweltering heat and into the store's artificially chilled atmosphere. Several people were milling about, browsing through the selection of gloves. Goro stares, awe clearly etched in his expression. "I didn't know they had a store just for gloves here..."

"There usually aren't but, well," Shuuji shrugs. "Guess this one's a special one."

A sharply dressed attendant, not unlike the one from the shoe store, greets them politely. Shuuji smiles at her, gesturing his hand in a vague way that has the attendant nodding. She leads them to a part of the store that has less people. It's quieter here.

"See anything you like?" Shuuji waves the woman off, and she excuses herself, leaving them to attend to other customers.

"Um..."

"Actually, wait here for a minute." Shuuji disappears into the crowd, leaving Goro to awkwardly stand and browse through the display shelves. His arms were starting to ache again, conveniently finding a cushioned stool a few feet away. Putting down the bags to rest his arms felt like heaven. Shuuji returns not ten minutes later carrying  _another_ paper bag. Goro gapes at him when Shuuji shoots him a sheepish look. 

"Last one." Shuuji mouths at him and they're out of the store and into the humid summer air again.

.

Shuuji accompanies him all the way back to the day care. The store was apparently close enough that they get there before six thirty, so Goro doesn't agonize about needlessly worrying his mother with his disappearance from the daycare. Akari-sensei might fret, but she know he's responsible enough to trust him with his own self. They linger in the deserted playground, sitting on the swings that Goro usually occupies alone. He has Shuuji now, he realizes and he gets to meet Shuuji again then the next day doesn't feel as daunting and heavy as it usually does.

"Akechi-kun," Shuuji calls for him, his eyes transfixed on the clear view of the sun setting, tucked away between the green trees. Goro likes the way his name rolls off Shuuji's tongues. There's a lilt to it that he can't quite copy with his own utterance of Shuuji's name. He wants to try.

"Akechi-kun." Shuuji says again.

Goro answers this time. "Yeah?"

"I..." Shuuji pulls his gaze away from the sun, looking down to stare at the ground. He looks troubled. "Today was fun." Shuuji stands, his coat fluttering behind him from the sudden movement. They look like wings, black and great over his back, weighted done by misery and regret. Shuuji turns his head partly to look at Goro. "I had fun." He can tell it's the first time since Shuuji has said those words because Goro knows. It's been a while for him, too.

"Me too, Shuuji." Goro tells him truthfully.

Shuuji smiles at him. Goro would like to say it's a happy one, but it's not, it's looks melancholic, mournful.

He wants to wipe it away.

"Shuuji-"

"Goro," Shuuji cuts him, placing the bag he had carried from the gloves store on Goro's lap. "Here. I did promise you a pair of gloves, didn't I? And-" He digs into his pockets, producing a single, folded up paper. He hands it to Goro like a promise. "One last present, Akechi-kun."

"Present?" Goro echoes confusedly, "What for?"

Shuuji laughs lightly. "You really don't know, huh? What date is it today, Akechi-kun?"

Goro looks at him with furrowed brows. "Today's date?"

"Yeah," Shuuji answers him simply. He pulls Goro to his feet -pulls him into a hug, thin arms enveloping Goro's shoulders. Even in the hot evening, it's cool. The fabric of Shuuji's sleeves touching the exposed skin of his neck. Goro sucks in a surprised breath.

"Shuuji?" He moves his own arms hesitantly, wrapping them around a slender waist and back. He buries his face in his friends fluffy hair, finally getting to feel the softness he's been wanting to touch since he first met Shuuji. It smells nice. Goro thinks he should feel ashamed, sniffing at the younger boy's hair but he can't find it in himself to do so. The only thing he can feel right now is a strange sort of warmth that makes his whole body tingle.

Shuuji tightens his hug.

"Happy Birthday, Goro."

The tingling warmth burst into fireworks.

.

Futaba can hear the fondness tinging Akechi's tone when he tells her about Tsushima Shuuji. It's the same sort of tone he has when talks about Akira.

"Akari-sensei, one of the daycare teachers came looking for me minutes after Shuuji disappeared." Akechi chuckles, "Would you believe me if I told you he disappeared right across the route when the traffic light turned green?" His smile turns out fondly as he recalls the rather shocking way Shuuji had bid him goodbye. Or it must have at least been shocking, leaving Akechi with a piece and a whole lot of shopping bags to haul back home. He did mention he lived far away. That must have been an adventure.

Explaining the sudden overload of very expensive purchases must have been fun, too.

What a way to leave an impression on someone.

"Whaaaattt?" Futaba drawls. "Isn't that a bit to cliche?"

"I suppose so." Akechi hums.

"What was in the paper?"

Akechi barks out a laugh. "It was his phone number, from his personal phone," His laughter dies down to mirthful chuckles. "He told me to call him when I finally get my  _own_ phone."

Futaba couldn't quite control her guffaws. God, Tsushima Shuuji most definitely wasn't someone she was expecting from the threatening photo the anonymous hacker had sent her. Or the fact that he was from the mafia (or that he had a very frightening mental breakdown, which was a lot more of a depressing thought, really, she wouldn't wish something like that on anyone -not to that level). He sounded like a fun guy, dragging a stranger on an impromptu shopping spree, only wishing Akechi a happy birthday at the end and leaving a  _phone number._  "I'd really like to meet him!" 

Goro's smile wavers, dimming slightly. "I..." He trails off morosely. "I'd really like to meet him, too..."

"Crow...?" Morgana enquires, worry lancing his utterance of Akechi's nickname.

Akechi sucks in a sharp breath, raising his hand to gesture vaguely. "Just... give me a moment... there's more I have to tell you, actually."

Futaba quiets down, Akechi asking for a breather is a very rare thing, which means whatever he's going to tell them next might be something he's not quite ready to actually speak about. It's something she's very much used too. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile "We've still got the rest of the day, leader."

Akechi glances at the clock, before her smile with a rueful one of his own. "Yes, I suppose we do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've hit 100 comments!!! When did this happen??? How??? Thank you to all you lovelies, especially [Ronear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronear/pseuds/Ronear) , [Roze_Ryuuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roze_Ryuuki/pseuds/Roze_Ryuuki), [TheMadCatQueen69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadCatQueen69/pseuds/TheMadCatQueen69) and [wiccanapprentice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiccanapprentice/pseuds/wiccanapprentice) for sticking with me and giving me increasingly interesting theories and very helpful constructive cristism!!
> 
> As always, shout to me in my tumblr, [artmakira](http://www.artmakira.tumblr.com).
> 
> (uh, next chapter, things go downhill fast)
> 
> (I FORGOT TO ANNOUNCE THAT I'M GOING TO PARTICIPATE IN WHUMPTOBER!!! For more whump, visit my tumblr!)


	9. i yearned for everything (long gone)

The police sirens were starting to grate on his nerves.

It's not like he could feel much beyond the numbness encompassing his whole body but it's still annoying enough to have him press the palms of his hand roughly over his ears to block the sound out. He can hear Akari-sensei's nonsense as she rambles to a police officers. Why does she even bother, it's not like there was much they could do anyway, too late as they are.

The paramedics arrives. Their annoying sirens adding to the commotion.

There's nothing they could do, either.

His mother was already dead by the time Goro found her, wrist slit open, blood pouring out like an offering -to who, he doesn't know. Nor does he care.

What matters is, she's dead now.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

-he didn't even get to say  _goodbye_.

A sob escapes his lips before he could wrangle it back in, lock it in the depths of his heart because he has to stay strong for her. Always has too, as fragile as she is -was- fighting rejection and humiliation everyday. She's  _gone_   _now_  - _w_ _hat was the point._ Why does he have to stay strong now, in the face of her cold corpse covered under a white blanket as the paramedics gather around her.  _Why does he even try?_

("Good things don't come for people like us, Akechi," His mother tells him. Her back is turned towards him so he can't quite tell what expression she's wearing. "and if they do, then don't hold on to tight, because there's always a price.")

And maybe this is his price. For indulging in happiness and warmth for a day -just  _one_ \- and if this is the price he has to to pay then he  _doesn't want it._

(but that's a lie, because that would mean he would have never met Shuuji-)

He wants her back.

(He wants him back.)

Another sob escapes him, and another and another, each growing harsher then the last. He hugs himself tightly, feeling as if he might break apart any second now; like an already shattered vase, held together with nothing but cheap glue and tape. He curls into himself and he  _hurts-_

(like a boat lost in a storm, capsizing in the waves and the wind and the thunder rumbling over head, lightning striking the mast, desperately holding on so that he wouldn't drown but knowing he's already given up halfway because what was the  _point-)_

because she's gone now and he didn't even  _get to say goodbye_.

No matter how much she wouldn't even say his name, call him and tell him she loves him, Goro loves her. Goro loves her because she's the only anchor in his life, the only one thing that wouldn't change and even if he can't rely on her to support him fully, at least they can support each other in a world where everyone is against them. Turned their backs towards them because of a single man and a single mistake.

A mistake.

That was what he was -still is.

A mistake that she had to put up with and sometimes he thinks she's better off without him to weigh her down. Sometimes, he looks at the happy faces of all the other mothers playing with their children in the day care and he  _thinks-_

Then she would come and smile at him, it doesn't quite reach her eyes but there's warmth in it that Goro rarely feels and it's enough. It's enough to get him through the day, enough to let him sleep at night without viscous words circling his head like vultures waiting to pick on the carcass of a dying creature. It's enough.

It  _was enough._

And he doesn't even have enough, now.

He cries out his anguish silently, alone and wishes he has someone to hold the pieces together because he's not sure if he can, anymore.

.

Nijima-san comes to check on him every twice a week after he's settled into the new home they gave him.

Or, home as the authorities had said it.

To Goro, it's nothing but a place to hold him because no one else wants too. No one else wants to see the little mistake that led to his mother's suicide.

But that's  _it-_

It wasn't a suicide. He knows that, because no matter how fragile she was sometimes, she is  _strong_. To him, his mother would always be strong. Unyielding during the days when the insults, be it intentional or not, were at it's worst. Untiring even with the obscene amount of work she takes on every single day just to keep the two of them afloat in a money-obsessed world. Unflappable in a subtle way that soothes Goro in the fact that she would have never resorted to such a thing as taking one's own life. He wants to mention it to Nijima-san, but it's only been a week and the police are still held up by something that had happened the very same night his mother was murdered.

(-because she was and he refuses to believe otherwise.)

A massacre of a whole underground organization, he's gathered from the whispers of the gossiping crowd.

Gone in one night.

( _'_ _maybe that was Shuuji's job and he didn't want to do it,'_ His mind whispers treacherously. _'and that's your fault, too.'_ )

(He has no reason to convince himself that it wasn't.)

"Hello, Akechi." He hears Nijima-san's firm, baritone voice and Goro looks up from where he had been ceaselessly staring at the uneven, hard ground in front him. Nijima-san grins at him. It's a gesture Goro doesn't bother to return. He looks away when Nijima-san moves to sit next to him on the orphanage steps a little ways off from the actual entrance. "How've you been holding up here?"

"Fine." Goro answers briskly, wanting to rid himself of the man's company and be left alone.

"How're the other kids?" Nijima-san continues.

Goro forces out a long sigh tiredly. "Fine. They leave me alone, anyways."

"Can't say much for kids this days, ain't people your age supposed to play with each other like wild foxes?" Nijima-san grins at him again, humour dancing in his brown eyes.

"Aren't adults supposed to mind their own business?" Goro says smartly. It's satisfying, to be able to push someone away and not be the one left behind. If he doesn't let anyone close, then he doesn't have to worry about them leaving him. He can't quite look at Nijima-san's eyes.

Nijima-san sighs at him, it's irritatingly similar his own. It raises many questionable emotions in him, breaking away the aching numbness that had started being the norm. Ranging from the familiar vexation, and ending in mild annoyance, Goro realizes that the police officer had done it on purpose; wanting to rile him up in a way that Nijima-san had somehow found to be the only way he could reach the younger boy. His own wine-red eyes move sharply to meet with tree-bark brown ones, finding hidden mirth in them. Nijima-san drops the frown to grin at him victoriously.

"Finally decided to actually look at me, kid?"

"I'm not some child you can play with." Goro snaps, body tensing up like a highly-strung wire.

"Whoah, whoah, not tryin' to antagonize you," Nijima-san rises his hands, palms facing towards Goro to appease the younger's triggered temper. "Just wanna ask you a few questions, is all."

 _'Ah, there it is,'_ Goro thinks, ugly relief flooding him.  _'They always have their reason. And now I know what.'_

Maroon eyes softening minutely, uncurling the fist that had formed in his brief outburst of irritation. He unwound the tension from his body, giving of a fake impression of relaxation that he hopes is convincing enough to lure Nijima-san into a false sense of security. Goro smiles inwardly as Nijima-san relaxes with him.

Until he doesn't.

"Don't try and play that kinda game with me, kiddo." Nijima-san huffs, arms crossing lightly over his chest. "Ain't gonna work at the level you're at, anyway."

Nijima-san uncrosses his arms as he sighs. His left hand moves to reach for the black, shoulder-slung bag beside him, rummaging through it's contents. Goro watches with thinly veiled curiosity and wariness as the older man fumbles for what looks like a smaller navy blue bag. The police officer drags it out of the larger bag slowly, giving Goro brief glances of the mystery package as he moves.

The package is finally placed on Nijima-san's lap, he loosens the drawstrings holding the bag closed and drags something small and round, a solid blue in colour with twisted ends, out of it.

It looks like the candy his mother used to buy for him.

It used to be his favorite.

Nijima-san places the sweet treat next to him, nudging it into the younger's closed fist. Goro hadn't realized he'd curled them again.

"Here," Nijima offers. "Try it, it's my youngest's favorite and she has good taste in candies."

"What do you want?" Goro says, instead.

"Like I said, just a few questions, nothin' much." The police officer shrugs."

"About my mother?" The younger of the two opts to ignore the candy, drilling his eyes on the side of Nijima-san's head instead. "Or of what?"

"Well, for starters," Nijima-san speaks, he sounds as kind as Akari-sensei had been. Goro misses her, but not enough for him to actually visit her in the daycare. He doesn't go there anymore.

"How's your day?" The man continues. Goro contemplates his choices: one, he doesn't want Nijima-san to think he can bribe Goro with  _candy_ of all thing; two, Nijima-san might be able to help him find out more about his mother and maybe about Shuuji -but he's not willing to risk exposing his friend's identity, so he scratches that put of the list; three, Goro is, for all accounts, a curious boy and the orphanage is getting quite boring. 

The younger sighs heavily and curls his hand around the single, offered candy.

.

"Have I ever told you about the time Mako-" Nijima-san starts. It's been a month and a half of exchanged candies and Question-Answer games. Goro's warmed up quite a lot to the cheerful and optimistic man -a little to much for his taste, actually, given the man's seemingly endless and proud rambles about his daughters but he can make do.

"Yes," Goro answers exasperatedly. "You told me that last week, and week before that, and the week before that." He dead pans, looking Nijima-san straight in the eyes with a blank look. The police officer stops with a click of his jaw and follows that up with a sheepish grin. Goro rolls his eyes in return.

They're sitting on the steps where Nijima-san had first approached Goro. The place had become a regularly occupied spot everytime Nijima-san visits him, which is about twice or thrice a week. The excited shouts of playful children sounds from inside the wooden fence encircling the building, Goro can hear one of the adults keeping an eye on the younger ones shout at them to calm down so as to not get so excited that they injure themselves. One of the children peeks at the two of them from a badly concealed hiding spot behind a tree to Goro's left. He recognizes the straight black hair with the shorten bangs and aims a look at Naomi, a girl roughly his age who had been in the orphanage longer than the brunette. She raises an eyebrow at him before disappearing back into the orphanage -probably looking for the older boy she always claims to be her brother, Junichirou, if Goro remembers correctly; he hasn't been able to pin all the names to faces quite yet.

Nijima looks at him curiously. "Who was that?"

"Naomi," Goro answers simply. 

"Oh, your girlfriend?" The older man asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Goro rolls his eyes, a gesture he has been doing very often since meeting Nijima-san. "Not." He says, stressing out the end of the word. "She's always clinging to another boy, anyway. I just talk to her, sometimes." He reaches a hand out to the man. "That was a question, right?"

Nijima-san pouts at him. It looks disgusting on a middle-aged man like him. "Gonna get me broke sooner or later, kiddo." He complains but reaches for the candy bag, presenting the same blue candy he had been giving to Goro as bribe for the past month and a half. He places the candy on the younger's open palm and whines, "You're going to get cavities at this rate, Goro."

Goro shrugs, unwrapping the candy and popping the overly sweetened treat in his mouth. He chews on it and lets the flavour burst along his tongue, humming appreciatively. "I don't mind."

Nijima-san sighs exasperatedly, shoulders slumping in a defeated fashion. 

Comfortable silence envelops them, Goro enjoying his candy and Nijima-san staring at patch of grass ahead of them, seemingly lost in thoughts. The brunette glances at the older man every few seconds, wondering what was running in Nijima-san's head to have him so deeply focused. A frown is etched on the officer's face, forehead scrunched up in concentration. Nijima-san breaks out of his reverie with a rough exhale and reaches for the brown envelope he had brought with him.

"Actually, Goro, there's something that I have to ask." He says, bringing the envelope closer to him.

"Don't you always?" Goro snips back at him, wanting to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had settled.

The older man's frown deepens and he looks at Goro with dark eyes. "I know," He breathes in sharply. "It's serious, this time, kid."

Goro bites his lips. He straightens his posture to show Nijima-san that he is listening. Goro knows when undivided attention is called for and this is one of those occasions. Maroon eyes focus on the brown casing in the police's hand. He watches silently as Nijima-san pries the seal open, slow and careful to ensure that the paper does not rip. Once it's open, Nijima-san reaches inside and pulls a manila folder out of it.

It's a light brown in color and looks innocent as it but one glance at the older man's darkening face had Goro knowing otherwise. Nijima-san clutches at the folder, turning to Goro to give him a serious look. "I'm not supposed to be showing anyone the contents of this folder," He says and continues. "but I'm going to make this one time an exception, Goro, and I hope I can trust you not to spread whatever it is that I'm about to discuss with you." The officer ends on a slightly threatening note that is unlike him, but Goro supposes it's to be expected.

For a moment, he hopes that the police had finally caught on to his theories about his mother's murder (not suicide, never suicide) but those notions were quickly dashed off once he catches sight of the piece of paper clipped on to the folder. 

It's a photo.

A picture of a young boy who looks to be between the age of 6 to 9. He's gap toothed and smiling widely with unruly black curls and soft (naive,  _innocent_ _)_ grey eyes. Baby fat makes his face look round and chubby. A square-framed glasses is perched crookly on the bridge of his nose and it adds to the adorable softness that seems to be the only way to describe the boy's whole being. He looks... familiar, in a way but Goro can't quite place his finger on it.

He glances at the single piece of paper fixed behind the photo with a green paper clip and finds a name: Amamiya Ren.

_Amamiya Ren._

_Ren._

"This is Amamiya Ren." Nijima-san says the boy's name aloud. "And he has been missing for 4 years."

Goro's head reels once his hears Nijima-san's words. "4 years?" He repeats disbelievingly.

"Yeah," The police officer answers morosely. "Kid went missing the night his house burned to the ground, the whole task force thought it was an accident," He runs his hand through his hair. "Found evidence of arson from the neighbors later one, it was already too late by then."

"Are you sure he didn't-" It pains Goro to asks, but it felt like a possibility.

"No." Nijima-san denies firmly and something lifts in Goro. "We found two burned bodies identified to be his parents, but there was no sight of Amamiya Ren himself."

Goro chews on his lips. The candy had melted already.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks hesitantly.

Nijima-san glances sharply at him. "Yamashita Park." He mentions and it sparks a memory in Goro's mind. "I saw you in Yamashita Park with another kid, half a month ago." He exhales, before continuing. "And I believe that he was Amamiya Ren's relative."

"What?"

"The kid in the black coat? He looks similar enough to Amamiya Ren, same hair different posture." Nijima-san's frown deepens. "Might be a close relative."

  _"Not surprisingly really, even Ren is scared of me, hah-"_ Shuuji's words ring in Goro's head.  _"How can you be scared of your own s-"_

"His sibling?" Goro gasps breathlessly, Shuuji was twelve and if this Amamiya Ren had been missing for 4 years then-

Maybe that was how Mori had controlled Shuuji, by holding his brother hostage?

It made  _sense_.

(More so then what had been brewing in his mind since Shuuji disappeared, of supernatural abilities and mind control-)

"Sibling?" Nijima-san questions. His grasp on the folder tighten, knuckles a pale white. Goro is pretty sure his face is just a shade darker. "That's-"

The sharp  _bring, bring_ of a phone cuts off the rest of the police officer's words. It's Nijima-san's phone and the man snatches it from where it had lay, discarded and ignored next to his bag. The phone lid is flipped open and the screen brought close to the older's left ear, the opposite of the one facing Goro.

"Yes. Nijima Haruto speaking." Nijima-san answers gruffly, voice low and steady. The tone of the head of a task force.

He's silent for a while. The other end of the line must be explaining something.

The greying man gasps suddenly. "We have leads on the Port Mafia?" Nijima-san nods his head. "Yes, of course, now? Alright, I'm on my way." The phones shuts with a click and he shoves it into the front pocket of his messenger bag. The manila follows shortly after it's cleaned and slid inside the brown envelope to protect it. Nijima-san sighs for the umpteen time as he zips his bag up.

He looks at Goro and places the rest of the candy on the younger's lap. "Have it kid." Nijima-san says. A small, barely there grin quirks his lips. "Promise me you'll tell me more about this brother of Amamiya Ren next time we meet?"

Goro nods mutely at him. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He wants to ask what the phone call was about but Nijima-san is already standing, swinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder. One calloused hand ruffles Goro's hair. Nijima-san flicks at his forehead gently. Goro reaches up to instinctively cover the abused area, glaring halfheartedly at the older man. The officer's grin widens.

"See ya next week, kiddo. I'll bring back more of those candies you like so much, maybe bring Sae and Makoto, too, 'bout time you meet them anyway, after putting up with all of my nonsense." Nijima-san promises. "Maybe you three can bond over that." He jokes. Waving his hands, the man disappears past the gates and into the streets.

Nijima-san doesn't return next week.

Or the week after.

Goro meets a demon, instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter, _next chapter_!!!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _*screams*_


	10. (see the demons) within humans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goro shouts a lot, it's a wonder he doens't come down with a sore throat.

"Hello, Akechi-kun."

Goro digs his heels into the dirt, stopping the swing he had been idly sitting on. Shuuji's here. It's been _two whole months_ of unanswered calls and mechanical voicemails answering him. He'd called every day, every single day of the orphanage's house phone dialing, hoping, heart stuck in his throat in anticipation only to sink when the unmistakable sound of a his friend's voice, _"_ _You've reached my personal cell! Congrats, you're either a very close person that I've chosen trust or a soon to be dead one. I'll call you back once I'm done with whatever it is I'm doing. If I don't that means you should start sleeping with one eye open."_  Even then, he hasn't given up, standing by the phone at 12 p.m sharp daily because it's only then does the managers of the orphanage allow the children to use it.  _Shuuji's back,_ and he hasn't forgotten about Goro, and he's come back to meet him, finally.

Goro jumps to his feet, turning so fast his head spins. _Shuuji's he-_

"You're not Shuuji." Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

The man, who's  _notShuuji_ , blinks brown eyes at him. He's tall (far taller then Shuuji had been, then Shuuji probably ever will be), standing so high he blocks the sun's rays from stinging Goro's eyes. His hair is wavy (not as curled as Shuuji's) and fluffy like a cats. He doesn't want to touch it, doesn't want to run his hands through it like he wanted to with Shuuji's. It's brown too, a very dark brown but not black enough. His clothes are different, a complete 180 turn from Shuuji's black on black.

If Goro has to describe the man with one word, and one word only, it would probably be a close match between  _a clown_ or  _a contradiction_. His whole attire is warm where the man feels cold, like an icy breeze or the freezing hands of a _(her)_ corpse. At first glance, anyone will think he's wearing his tan (black, it should have been _black_ _)_  coat lazily, the belt hanging untied, swaying each time a strong wind blows. There's a vest, it looks black, shadowed by the sun as it is, but if Goro squints enough he can see it's just a shade of brown darker then the man's hair. The only colour that Goro can actually relate to him is the cold blue of the jewel hanging on the tie crossed around the strange man's neck.

The only exactly similar thing that Goro can find between this man and Shuuji are the bandages wrapped around every visible inch of skin, except for the face and hands. 

But that was it.

Nothing about the man reminds Goro of Shuuji -even with such close physical resemblance.

Shuuji had been (his sun) alive, bright, pained,  _torn_  with a sense of morality Goro can finally recognize had been there after seeing it, knowing it, realizing it in Nijima-san. One buried under layer upon layer of manipulation, of lies twisted into truths. Dimly concealed in dead eyes.

Under  _fear_. 

To Goro, this strange man who is so alike and yet  _not,_ feels... lifeless, empty,  _inhumane_.

A facade under another under _another_.

Endless.

"How do you know my name?" Goro asks in a mocking parallel of the time he's first met Shuuji, his tone filled with a fake confidence he's recently managed to perfect. It's funny how a single corpse and a missing person can change someone. "Did you get it from the orphanage manager?"

"Ah, I can see how he's taken a liking towards you." The man says, a shadow of a smile flickering briefly on his lips. "But, you're quite wrong, Akechi-kun."

"Don't call me that." Goro snarls. He stomps away to sit on the swing, his back facing the man. It's a clear rejection of any sort of interactions.

"What would you like to be called, then?" The man's voice sounds from beside him, this time. On the other unoccupied swing to Goro's left.

"Nothing. I'd like for you to leave me alone."

"Ah, it's such a pity." The man sighs, hands moving to cross over his heart in a show of theatrics. "I suppose you wouldn't want to know about how our mutual friend is doing in this cruel world then." He raises from where he's sitting, and turns to leave. Goro's hand snaps up unconsciously, catching the stranger by the end of his fluttering coat.

"Wait." He says reluctantly. "Do you mean, Shuuji?"

"Perhaps." The man answers. It's brings Goro up to levels of frustration he's never felt before. "It depends."

"On what?" Goro hisses sharply. He's not in the mood to play games.

The man dodges Goro's question with his own mildly voiced one, "I wonder why you have such a calming effect on people like us?"

Goro opens his mouth to insult the man in a not very child-appropriate way, but the stranger beats him with another question, "Would you say his whole name? Your friends?"

"W-What?" Goro recoils, body jerking away as a wave of anxiety washes over him.

"DIdn't you know?" That secretive smile is back. " _Tsushima Shuuji_ was originally _my_ name." And the stranger's  _eyes-_

_Inhumane._

Dark, dark like the void.

(Stare at the abyss and he will stare back.)

Goro's breath hitches.

" _I_ am  _Tsushima Shuuji_ , although I don't go by that anymore."

Goro is  _scared_ , he feels like the time he first saw Shuuji's- no, not Shuuji's, then  _who is Shuuji_ , Mori's? -face twisted in a mutilated smile, the hissing of a snake, the laughter of a little blonde girl in a blue dress-

_"Ne, Akechi-kun, are you scared of me?"_

_"Not really."_

_"Well, you should be, most of all of my namesake."_

_"Your namesake? But-"_

_"Ah, yeah, the less you know the safer you'll be."_

_"But-"_

"Tsushima Shuuji was I, and I am Dazai Osamu."

-This man, this man is _dangerous._

Something in him snaps-

"You're- NOT  _TSUSHIMA SHUUJI!!_ "

-awake.

 

  _hello child, have you finally come to realize all the potential you have?_

_buried deep like hidden treasure coveted by rotten adults_

_will you finally embrace -yourself_

 .

He wakes up to a place so blank he feels like he himself is disappearing.

(Stare at the abyss and he will stare back.)

Something is on his face, and it - _hurts, so much, like liquid fire burning in his veins, poison dripped upon his eyes, blinding him as he heals himself over and over again, scaring him unable to scream with his lips sewn shut._ _Of the flash of a knife, stabbing him. Bleeding slowly to death, betrayed -denying revenge, bound by an oath- a trickster by heart, flourishing in chaos -let the riches rain down on the poor -what_

_is_

_your_

_justice?_

.

He wakes again, blood dripping down his face. There is a mask, the crimson red features of a crow. Goro is fourteen, it has been two months since his birthday (the day he found his friend, lost him and found a corpse bleeding out from her wrist in the darkness of their home) and only then has he felt so _right_ -

_"ROBIN HOOD!"_

 .

_"He calls upon me, first. Patience, Chaos-bringer, he is but a child."_

 .

Dazai is there, Goro can see him, standing on nothing, surrounded by nothing. He walks towards him, the broadsword in his hand is light but it's still too long for Goro to lift so he lets it drag behind him, sparks flying from where it connects with the void that acts as a floor. He can feel Robin Hood in his mind, a bright presence comparable to Shuuji's and another being shrouded in darkness he has yet to sweep away. Robin Hood wills him to let it go, he has no need for the other being, to strong for his current psyche.

 _"Loki_ ,"His -other self, as he calls Robin Hood now, for he does not know what to call the thief in his soul, tells Goro.  _"Loki will only destroy you, as you are now, still so young, he will bring chaos upon you soul."_

 _"But I might need him."_ Goro says, his mouth moves but no sound comes out.  _'Is this what it feels like? To be dead?'_ He thinks and it echoes in his mind, speaking his thoughts to the other two taking residence.

 _"Mayhaps,"_ Robin Hood answers.  _"But not now."_ He hums, contemplating Goro's unspoken question.  _"I know only as much you do, child, for thou art I and I am thou. This,"_ His large, white silhoutte gestures towards the emptiness surrounding them.  _"Is not ours, it is impossible to have both us and this... place, a palace in the mind."_

 _"A palace, huh."_ Goro taps at his chin.  _"Whose is it, then?"_

Robin Hood is silent afterwards, but his presence lingers like a warm blanket wrapped around Goro's shoulders. He feels secure, safe floating among the abyss. Robin Hood will have his back. 

Goro approaches Dazai carefully. The man has been unnaturally silent.

Too silent.

Dazai moves suddenly, head twisted at an unnatural angle. He grins. It reminds Goro of Mori. The void shifts around them, fluctuating and bouncing in uneven waves, it splits and cracks and Goro's head splits with it, someone's pain echoing as his own. There is laughter, menacing and filled with so much fear and _anger_. Dazai's form simmers, changing with the void. Shadows surge around him, twisting, churning and he-

He looks younger now. The bandages extend upwards, wrapping around his left eye. There's a cast protecting his right arm. The tan coat is gone, there's a black one swung upon his shoulders, the black suit and the expensive, high-grade leather shoes. He looks like Shuuji.

Dazai looks so much like Shuuji it's giving Goro double vision.

(- and yet still he can't see the morals he sees in Shuuji and maybe that's just how Dazai is-)

An acid-yellow eye stare at him. "Hello again, Akechi Goro-kun," The snake hisses lividly. Robin Hood tenses in him. Loki, Goro can feel, laughs delightfully; he knows now why Robin Hood keeps him away from the other occupant in him. A being who flourishes in the chaos and manipulation. But Goro doesn't quite mind that Loki is a part of him as he is Loki if it means he can hone his curse to a finely-tuned gun to aim at his enemies, dispatching them silently from afar. His attention shifts when the snake moves.

"You have been quite a thorn in my side." It says. The void changes again, the floor rolling from under him, splitting open and melting around the serpentine form that forces it's way in. It slithers, wrapping it's black-scaled body around Dazai. Violet slitted eyes glare at him. The forked tongue moves lazily as it tastes the stale air.

Goro draws in a sharp breath.  _'The broadsword, it's too long,'_ He calls to Robin Hood.  _'I need something else. Before that thing kills **me**."_

_"Then call upon me, child."_

_"KOUGAON!"_ Goro shouts, his voice doesn't obey him but still the power echoes around him. Strikes of white fly at the snake, rapid-fire pace like it came from a machine gun. Robin Hood moves from within him and Goro follows, doing a maneuver that should have been impossible for a 14 year old child with no prior military or fighting experience. The serpent's elongated body crashes into the space where Goro had once been, fangs digging into the soft floor. It raises, hissing at him, fury radiating of off it.

Goro stares at it, and it stares back.

He wants to fire the white at it again, but even that one single shot had left him exhausted. Loki reacts, but Goro holds him back; something in him tells him not too, that using Loki will only worsen things. He calls upon Robin Hood again just as the snake decides it has enough of waiting and snaps towards him, jaw unlatched, ready to swallow him whole.

Goro-

-moves.

His blade catches briefly on the snake's fangs before it continues, slicing the sharp points in half and moving to glide, feather-light through the scaled-body in a horizontal, blood spurting arc. The snake jerks when the blade stops midway, still stuck in it. Goro pulls it free, bringing it down on the junction of it's neck and head, slicing cleanly through. The head jerks again, moving to bite at Goro even with it's jaw flopping uselessly. Red-violet eyes blaze at him before the light dies and the snake thrashes one last time, still attempting to crush him even in it's death-throes.

Something pulls him from behind, not Robin Hood nor Loki. They feel human --human hands grabbing him out of the snake's path. He stumbles backwards, hitting something,  _someone_ and they both fall down, down into the abyss.

.

Goro coughs awake. He's really starting to get tried of feeling like he's just woken up from a nightmare, a sort of rush like it had made him run 100 miles and leaving him sweaty, gross and uncomfortable.

"Well," Someone says dazedly from behind him. "I wasn't quite expecting  _that_ when I came to talk to you."

He scrambles out of the way, raising to his feet and turns to look at whoever it was.

Dazai sits behind him, splayed in a way that suggest he'd fallen off of something. There's sharp glint in his eye, visible even through the haze Goro can see is still clutching on to the older man like an unwanted leech. It's clinging to Goro too, along with ten-ton exhaustion.

The swings creak, protesting at the way Goro throws his whole weight on one of the seats. He doesn't bother offering a hand to Dazai, knowing that somehow, this man had been the one to drag him into the abyss. Dazai stands not long after, making a show of brushing the dirt off his coat. "Although," The older man hums thoughtfully, scratching at his chin in a playful manner, "It is a desirable outcome."

Goro grits his teeth at the indirect implication. He hates being used, with or without his consent. "I don't care."

"Mah..." Dazai sighs, "Your attitude really does remind me of an unpleasent hatrack, all rough and shy~”

"I'm not shy!!!” Goro shouts at the vexing man.

"Such a Tsundere~" Dazai dances out of Goro's poorly aimed punch. Goro can feel the difference now; Robin Hood and Loki may still exist in his head, their presence all-encompasing, but none of his other self's influence cross over to this world. It's both a worrisome and comforting revelation.

"I'm NOT!!!!!!!” Goro tries again, but his fist hits air. He tries to muffle his scream of frustration when Dazai jumps out the way of his third punch. His shout doesn't quite come out as he expects it to, more of a mixture between a squeak and a yelp when the momentum pushes him forward and he lands in an embarasing heap on the ground.

"Really," Dazai tuts patronizingly. "Your technique could do with a bit more work." He waves his finger side to side right in front of Goro's face. The younger snarls and moves to grab for that finger, aiming to  _break_ because it's been  _weeks and the frustration of being helpless needs a release and here is someone-_

There's a gun aimed at his forehead.

Goro's eyes widen in shock. His breath stops in his chest, and his body tenses far more then it ever has. Flight or Fight instincts war in him but his need to escape is obviously winning because there is a _gun_ aimed at him, Dazai's eyes are blank and dark and  _cold_. Colder then any winter Goro has been through. Colder then her's, even in death. Burning ice runs through his veins, freezing his blood, his soul. Goro thinks he knows what fear is before, but it's very clear now that he doesn't because fear is,  _fear is-_

Fear is the form of a man in a tan coat with dark brown hair and dead, dead eyes.

Fear is the gun aimed at his head, the safety off.

Fear is the knowledge that he is  _one step away from death._

Fear is the knowledge that he doesn't want to die, yet.

_This is fear._

Goro doesn't want to die.

He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't  _want to die. Not yet. Notyetnotyetnotyet-_

"Oh." Dazai's voice cuts through the despair. The gun is gone, suddenly, hidden back under the heavy folds of Dazaics coat. The rough grip around his wrist is gone too, Goro notes numbly as his knees buckle and he's back on the ground, kneeling and limp and still so, so  _scared._

How does one man evoke so much fear?

Dazai is looking at him apologeticly, but even that looks fake and shallow, as if there is no depth or meaning behind them. "I didn't mean to do that." The older shrugs, before he continues, more to himself than to Goro, frowning at the hand that once held a gun. "I really should stop doing that... Odasaku will be angry at me if I don't..." A sad frown flashes through Dazai's face for second before it disappears and isn't it funny how that small expression holds more emotion than any of the man's grand gestures and dramatism ever could.

Goro draws in a sharp, shaky breath when Dazai's attention focuses back on him. "You're scared, aren't you?"

 _'Of course I am.'_ Goro thinks.  _'How can I not be, with a gun aimed at me? How can you **not know**?'_

"I really didn't mean to..." Dazai says, and it does sound more sincerethan before but something in Goro, the part of him that has been around so many adults with fake faces; the part that has seen his mother's smile; his relatives' grieving and poorly concealed annoyance; the part of him that has met Shuuji, would not relax. Cannot relax.

"You aimed a gun at me." Goro breathes out, disbelief colouring his tone. "How could I not be scared? Wouldn't you be?" 

Dazai sighs. "Guess the both of you aren't as alike as I thought you were." He moves to kneel on one knee in front of Goro. "We live in vastly different worlds, Akechi-kun." He pauses. "You and Shuuji-kun live in different worlds."

"I know that." Goro says quietly.

"Do you?" Dazai raises an eyebrow at him. "And by how much?"

Goro doesn't know how to answer him.

"There we go." Dazai remarks. "Exactly nothing. You have so much to learn, Akechi-kun."

Goro snarls, his fear leaving him momentarily at the sound of his name and the way Dazai is acting, patronizing and slightly condescending, gives him enough irritation to voice his displeasure. "Don't call me tha-"

"For one." Dazai continues, steamrolling over Goro as if he didn't just try to interupt him. "You have no tact. At all." Dazai stresses. "You need to stop snapping at everything, like a pathetic, stray dog growling at anyone that even so much as looks at it." Dazai stabs a finger at Goro's direction.

Goro opens his mouth to protest, because he  _does not_ act like a pathetic dog. "I don-"

"Do you really want to save Shuuji-kun?" Dazai cuts him off.

The question stalls his tongue. "Save... Shuuji?"

"Umn." Dazai vocalizes in lieu of a confirmation.

"I do!"

"Then, Akechi-kun, you have a lot to learn." Dazai stands slowly. "In two weeks time, a woman, Nijima Sae, will come get you, you will go with her and you will  _learn_."

Goro nods hesistanly. _'Nijima Sae? What happened to Nijima-san?'_ He wonders to himself. Somehow, he knows the answer isn't he would want to know. "Then... you'll teach me then... Dazai-san...?" He says, uncertainty clear in his voice.

"Ehhh, hearing you so polite is..." Dazai makes a random gesture with his hands. "I suppose that is a start. You hate Mori-san, don't you, Akechi-kun?" Dazai smiles at him expectantly. Goro doesn't know how to answer him, but he does, he really does. That man, whether as a direct participant or an indirect one Goro doesn't care, is the reason Shuuji is with the Mafia, is the reason Shuuji is... Shuuji, and that's reason enough. "Then continue to do so.  _Hate him,_ and  _use_ that hate, let it fester, let it grow," Loki stirs in Goro's mind, he smiles, sinister and mad and  _wonderful_. "because feeling hate is, ultimately, better than self-pity, better than  _nothing._ "

Goro nods eagerly and something in him unravels at Dazai's words.

"See?" Dazai smiles, sharp eyes narrowed. "You're learning already." Dazai informs him cryptically "Four years, Akechi-kun, four years." He steps backwards, away from Goro, and claps his hands. "Now then, I really must be going, can't keep a man like the chief waiting." He skips towards the gates, stopping just a few centimeter before it. "Oh! One more thing." Dazai looks back and he smiles a demon's smile.

"В ти́хом о́муте че́рти во́дятся, Akechi-kun." With those words, Dazai walks away, leaving Goro reeling with new purpose and something raw, ugly and _twisted_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of the first arc of Still Waters.
> 
> It pains me to say this but I'm going to have to take at least a 2 week break. The past week has been rough, both mentally and emotionally, and I think that reflects on my writing. Since this is a major series, I'd rather provide my best, so a break would probably do me good, just so I can get ready for the second arc. There's also a very important project coming up that I can't afford to fail, and it'll only end by the 25th of October.
> 
> [hear the ocean part, watch the sky break] will still have irregular updates, though, and I'll still be available in [Tumblr](http://www.artmakira.tumblr.com) to chat or answer ask about anything, be it relationship between characters, timelines, or whatnot. Or just to chat, in general, So feel free to find me there!!
> 
> Once again, I do apologize and I very much hope I'll see you again in 2 weeks!
> 
> -Ren
> 
> (That is, of course, if I even last that long. There's a half chance that I might post early.)


	11. the snow that fell (on me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi gets spammed and Chuuya gets a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- brief discussions of gore, though not much, well, as much as I usually go, anyway.

The chime of Leblanc's quaint, little bell has already become an all too familiar sound as Goro strolls out of the café. It's evening already, the sun slowly setting bellow the horizon. The light warms him, leaving Goro with a vaguely nostalgic feeling. Different emotions swirl in him, mixing and breaking away in equal parts. There's a complex taste in his mouth, no unlike drinking the blend of coffee Sojiro had made for him during his first visits in Leblanc -the Hawaiian Kona, if he remembers correctly. It wasn't quite his preferred blend but it wasn't too bad, either. He'd rather much prefer the Columbian Bucaramanga Supremo; a rich, sweet tasting type that Akira had brewed for him the night after he'd found out about Kamoshida's palace, somehow stumbling upon an imprisoned Ryuji and Morgana.

Getting both to stop trying to tear each other's throat was exhausting. 

Since then he'd started frequenting Leblanc often. Now that he thinks about it, maybe finding an attic in a hidden gem of a café more of a home then his own apartment should be worrisome, given that he's paying for the apartment.

Goro won't start blaming himself, Yongen-Jaya is very convenient, especially the vending machine weekly supplying him with precious energy-restoring drinks. Those work wonders in the Metaverse.

(Also, it's not quite as lonely in Leblanc as it is in his apartment.)

He lets his feet take him to station, slipping into autopilot as he mules over his thoughts. Opening up to Futaba about his past was taxing, even if he was expecting that. Shuuji, huh.

Maybe Goro would get to meet him sooner then he's expected.

The prospect itself is frightening. What would he even do? Chit-chat? Catch up on the past like old friends do? It doesn't feel very likely for them to interact as normal people would, especially with Shuuji being who he is. How is he even going to  _find Shuuji?_ Four years of fruitless searching and hopelessly blocked routes and its only now someone finds the need to threaten Futaba about his long-lost friend?

The questions circling in his mind enchances the bitterness sticking to his tongue. Finding out would be a pain with so little information.

(Or, maybe, he already has all the pieces in his reach and he just has to find a way to fit them together.)

Pulling out his wallet, he scans the metro card and makes his way inside the platform for the train heading towards Shibuya. The place is as bustling as usual, given that it's currently evening rush hour. Futaba's deemed it enough after Goro finished telling her about Dazai and had slithered back into her home, probably already half-way into breaking in the Port Mafia's database. Or the Government's. It's worrying, but he trust her enough to be able to handle herself. Besides, it's like Futaba hasn't done such things before meeting the Phantom Thieves. Still, he's sent Mona to keep an eye on her.

It'll also help Morgana work through his issues if he could find a way to help Futaba.

Hopefully nothing too drastic would happen.

The train jolts when it passes through a bump on the tracks before proceeding smoothly.

 _'Has is really been four years?'_ Goro wonders, slightly mystified.  _'Four years... Dazai had said four years.'_ He frown at that. It what the man, who was the tipping point of Goro's life, be it for better or worse, had said was true then, could Dazai have been the one to-

His phone pings.

 **Sakura Futaba**   _06:11 pm_

I... thought about the whole thing...

 **Sakura Futaba**   _06:11 pm_

Are you okay?

 **Sakura Futaba**   _06:11 pm_

It couldn't have been easy, bringing all that up again, especially...

 **Sakura Futaba**   _06:12 pm_

I'm here if you want to talk about it, Goro, I think... I understand what it feels like.

 **Akechi Goro**   _06:12 pm_

I'm... alright, I suppose. It's been a long time.

 **Sakura Futaba**   _06:12 pm_

It doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.

Futaba's message stalls his fingers. Goro doesn't know how to answer that. He bites his lips in anxious confusion, thumb hovering above the keyboard. There's an ache in his breast where his heart is, dull and throbbing, and, Goro supposes, it does still hurt. He wills it away forcefully. There are more important matters to attend to the pain long past.

 **Akechi Goro**   _06:12 pm_

I'm fine.

Futaba doesn't reply. Goro would rather leave it at that. He switches out of her chat to check for any news in the Phantom Thieves Official Group Chat. Other then the news of Kaneshiro's confession and subsequent arrest, it's been relatively quiet.

Until now, that is.

 **Panther**   _06:15 pm_

I know this is completely unrelated to the pt, but

 **Panther**   _06:15 pm_

has anyone seen akira????

 **Panther**   _06:15 pm_

akechi, please tell me he's with you

 **Panther**   _06:15 pm_

goro!!

 **Crow**   _06:16 pm_

Panther.

 **Crow**   _06:16 pm_

Calm down.

 **Panther**   _06:16 pm_

but

 **Panther**   _06:17 pm_

he just left

 **Panther**   _06:17 pm_

no word goro

 **Skull**   _06:17 pm_

saw 'em out in the hall

 **Panther**   _06:18 pm_

nothing!!!

 **Panther**   _06:18 pm_

just got out of his chair anf left

 **Skull**   _06:18 pm_

kawakami's class yeah?

 **Panther**   _06:19 pm_

and then that news od a brwl in shibya

Goro blinks confusedly as the mention of a brawl fight in Shibuya. He had stayed for quite a long while in Le'blanc. But why would Ann bring that up? What connection does that have with Akira leaving class so abruptly?

 **Panther**   _06:19 pm_

Goro, please tell me Akira's wuth ou

 **Skull**   _06:18 pm_

what does tha have 'ta do with akira ditching??

 **Skull**   _06:18 pm_

ann??

 **Panther**   _06:18 pm_

someone spred a video

 **Panther**   _06:18 pm_

(video sent) 

The video loads showing a three minute mark on the bottom corner. Whoever had taken it must have either had very shaky hands or had been very nervous because the whole beginning of the video is an indescribable mess of grey, red and black. It starts to clear when the time frame hits 00:46, showing a group of man dressed in black suits. One of them glowed a bright shade of yellow, something rumbles loudly and Goro is very glad that he has his earphones on.

The yellow man jerks suddenly as a red blur nails him right on the head. He drops like a ten pound sack of potatoes, sprawled on the ground uncomfortable. The yellow glow fades. Another man, a shorter brunette and also dressed in black, shots from where he had been standing outside of the circle of bodies. Fist raised he barrels through the human wall. It parts, revealing a familiar head of fluffy black hair. Goro very nearly gasp when the brown-haired man jumps to tackle the younger man. A manic experssion settle on the raven's face as he serves to face the jumping man. The boy moves, raising his hand. It glows a deep dark ebony, intermixed with slithering red snakes. Everything shifts and someone screams as the man in black is thrown against the wall. A loud  _crack_  cuts through the clamour. Goro winces in emphatic pain as he sees the man's leg bends in an unnatural angle.

The video shakes harshly again as the sound of gun shoots fill his ears. Presumably, the holder of the phone shrieks as a black burst from the boy, covering him completely before Goro could find more to identify who it was. Several of the man, the ones closest to the boy, started to float, defying all the rules of gravity. They slam to the wall like a rag dolls thrown by a rabid dog. Red blossoms like unwanted flowers.

Another shriek and the video, oddly enough, pans closer to the boy when black dies down. Incorehible muttering sounds.

The face in the screen moves, and before it cuts to black, Goro is met with terror-filled slate grey eyes.

He stares at the black screen of his phone, horror and denial creeping up his veins.

It's no wonder Ann was so worried.

Sucking in a shaky breath, he directs his fingers to press the Phantom Thieves icon but a voice interrupts his scattered thoughts.

"Akechi-kun?"

Goro blinks at the utterance of his name. He looks up and Akira's face swim into view. "Akira-kun? W-what are you doing here?"

"Eh?" Akira asks confusedly. "I was on my way back to..." He pauses, face twisted up weirdly. "Leblanc. I'm going back home." A smile emerges across his face hesitantly. "What about you, um, senpai?"

"Ah, I'm on my way back too." He closes his phone after shooting a brief 'He's with me.' to the group chat. "I was just from Leblanc... myself..."

"Akechi-senpai...?" Akira's smile droops a little, eyebrows arched with raising confusion.

"I was just from Leblanc." Goro mutters. "Akira, why did you take this train?"

"Oh, doesn't this one take you to Leblanc?" Akira looks to his left. 

"No, it doesn't." Goro frowns, suspicion sinking in.

"I... I must have misread the direction then!" Akira chuckles nervously.

"You  _never_ misread the direction," Goro's hand circles Akira's wrist, over the smooth fabric of his cotton hoodie, and pulls him closer. " _Never."_

"S-senpai?" Akira yelps when Goro's other hand move to tilt his chin slightly upwards. Goro takes in his slightly unfocused eyes. Akira's pupils are dilated, almost lost in a sea of grey. He's pale, paler than usual, Goro notes worriedly, and the heat radiating of his skin might even be hot enough to count as a fever.

Goro presses his forehead against Akira's, just to check, and red spread across the younger's cheeks.

"T-to close." Akira squecks, nearly hysterical. He shakes his wrist out of Goro's grip and pushes his hands against the older's chest. Goro doesn't budge, not even when a couple of high-pitched giggles sound from somewhere to his right. "Akechi-kun, too close! People are staring!"

Once Goro is significantly satisfied with taking in Akira's temperature, he backs away slowly, leaving a few inches between them. "Hm." He vocalizes vaguely. "You're sick."

"What? No, I'm not!" Akira denies vehemently.

"Yes, you are." Goro states firmly. He grabs Akira's wrist again and drags him to the doors when the train slows to stop at Shinjuku. "You're coming with to my apartment, Akira-kun."

_"Akechi-kun??"_

.

Chuuya rubs his face roughly. He sighs the sigh of a man done with the drama that is life. "How are they?" He asks the rookie, not yet a made man, trembling in front of him. He supposes, his tone is a little harder then was necessary. The guy looks about ready to jump out of his skin just to get away from executive.

"T-they're fine, Nakahara-sama, s-sir. Eito-san s-should be awake is an hour-"

"Good, then." Chuuya cuts the grunt off, unwilling to listen to unnecessary blathering. He gives the other a small nod meant to reassure but it probably came of as slightly threatening with how much more the man is trembling -practically shaking now. "You are dismissed."

The brunette newbie sighs very audible, before realizing that, yes, Chuuya is still in the room with him. His jaw snaps shut with a loud click of teeth hitting teeth when the Chuuya arches an eyebrow at him. The trembling starts again.

He should really stop teasing the newbies.

Nah.

A period of very awkward silence in which Chuuya continues to stare and the grunt continues to tremble later, the door to his pent-houte-turned-office burst open.

Eito walks in, his leg encased in a cask and a crutch supporting him under his left armpit. Another man, presumably on of the ones Chuuya had assigned to guard both of hi trusted subordinates, has a hand clutching the Eito's belt to help him walk.

Suzunozuke looks appropriately disgruntled at the need for assistance.

Proud men will always be proud, not that Chuuya can say much about that anyway. He'd be calling himself a hypocrite.

"Nakahara-san, sir, I have urgent news to tell you." Eito rasp, voice scratchy from disuse. He hobbles to an armchair and plops down heavily with a relieved sigh.

Chuuya turns his previously newbie-aimed raised eyebrow to Eito's direction. "And whatever this is can't wait until after the both of us has had dinner?" He says but knows that Eito wouldn't bother him if the news isn't urgent, so Chuuya prepared himself. He sits on the revolving leather chair, and crosses his legs comfortable. Eito doesn't start immediately, glancing towards the door, instead. A brief glare from Chuuya towards the grunt and the helper has them tumbling out of the room in an instant.

Respect really is underrated.

"Sir," Eito starts, voice firm yet hesitant. "A brief report on the situation from the alley."

Chuuya nods at the remaning man in the room besides himself.

"Five of us, including Rito and I," Eito pauses. "were attacked at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, just today. We were attacked by-"  
He breathes in deeply and Chuuya breathes with him, suspicion already forming in his head.

"We acted in self-defense against an attack made by former shadow executive, Tsushima Shuuji."

Chuuya's personal phone rings with the song Dazai had, without his permission, installed specifically to alert Chuuya that he's the one calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!!! The break was _great_!! The BSD Discord server has been such a blessing. Hmu in [Tumblr](http://www.artmakira.tumblr.com) for anything!!
> 
> Next week, we'll have Chuuya!! (And I'm only, like, halfway done with chapter 12 so I'm lowkey _freaking out_ ). See you then!!


	12. hope is the only good god (remaining among mankind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dazai and Chuuya talk and so do Akira and Goro.

Taking into the fact that Dazai is miles away in Yokohama, he’s still enough of a pest to be able to annoy Chuuya to the point where Chuuya can feel Corruption broiling under his skin. Chuuya’s never liked being played, especially not in one of -he _knows,_ there’s no mistaking the feeling in his gut- Dazai’s elaborate plans. Because why else would the bastard call him at such a coincidental moment.

So, he picks up the phone, and snaps, “What.”

_“Maa, Chibii~ Always so grumpy.”_

“It’s not my fault that you’re such an irritating bastard, what the fuck are you planning _now_ , huh?” Chuuya growls into the phone, the sound of Dazai’s voice makes his ear itch.

_“Why does Chuuya always assume I’m planning something?”_

“Because,” Chuuya answers and pauses, drawing in a deep breath. _‘I know you.’_ He thinks but doesn’t say. He glances at where his subordinate is sitting before focusing back to the conversation, hand twitching by his side.

Dazai knows, too.

_“Well, since Chuuya is eager to know that he can’t even wait for me to announce it.”_

“ _Don’t involve me_ in _any part of whatever_ it is you’re _planning_.”

_“Too late, Chuuya.”_

Dazai chuckles, in that annoying, fond and _genuine_ way that Chuuya hates. Hates that he knows Dazai enough to be able to tell which is fake and which is real. Dazai drops an address, somewhere in Shibuya, and the line goes dead.

.

Having Akira in his apartment is a surreal experience.

Among the white of his modern, hotel-like furniture, Akira, in his white button-up, blends in quite nicely. He's sitting in on of the rarely used plush couch in Goro's living room, humming to a wordless tune of an unfamiliar song, probably one the recent ones, but Goro doesn't quite follow the pop culture trend unless it is to further his image as the next detective prince. Futaba's even made it her personal mission to 'educate' him, as much help as that would be.

Goro places a cup of steaming hot tea on the low coffee table in front of Akira and moves to sit next to him on the couch, snatching the remote from it's place beside the television along the way. His feet thuds dully on the carpeted floor as he walks. Akira looks at the remote curiously, he's still pale, Goro notes, but not quite as he had been in the metro. He's being usually silent.

"Akira-kun." Goro calls put softly to drag Akira's eyes back to him. He picks up the tea once he's settled comfortable a few inches from the younger and offers it to Akira. "Tea? Careful, it's hot."

"Uhm..." Akira blinks hard, shaking his head jerkily. "Yeah, Thanks Akechi-kun." He makes no move to reach for the tea, hands laying limply on his lap.

Goro places the tea back on the coffee table, eyes never leaving Akira. He sighs, "Does your head hurt?"

"Ah, no, I'm fine... Senpai, everything's okay." Akira grins at him, soft and small in a way that has Goro smiling back. It reminds him of someone, although he doesn't know who, exactly.

"Well, if you're sure." Goro replies, "Will you tell me why you left Kawakami-sensei's class so abruptly, then."

Akira looks at him confusedly. "Kawakami-sen...sei?"

"Yes, Ann told me that you, left suddenly? During class?" Akira's eyes are glazed with momentary confusion before they shift away from Goro, settling on the random wood patterns of the table.

"I... Iwai-san needed my help." He answers after a period of silence, his left-hand fiddling with the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. It's his tic, Goro had seen this once after an unfortunate situation in Shibuya where they had to deal with a couple to too touchy people. It's the same tic that he's seen before, years back in his old friend, the same gesture Shuuji had made during they're walk back to the day-care. Realization downs on him slowly and then all at once.

The way Akira has always been hell-bent on avoiding touch from anyone other then Akechi or Futaba, and the occasional pats or hugs from their friends. His odd quirk with finding people faster and more efficiently than an average high-school student should be able to. The part time jobs, especially the one with Iwai Munehisa, a former yakuza. The tracking device and the money. The way Akira had spite Kaneshiro's way.

The time in the subway, body moving to fluidly for a supposed untrained fighter. Even if he had been receiving self-defence training, that kind of maneuver had been too complicated, more muscle memory than actual knowledge, too fluid, too similar to martial-arts than simple street brawling.

The way he's able to keep up with the Phantom Thieves.

His protectiveness over Futaba.

Terror-filled slate grey eyes.

His current confusion.

Calling Goro 'Akechi-kun' instead of 'Akechi-senpai'.

Akira tenses next to him, tension rolling off his frame in waves. Or maybe it's his own, Goro doesn't know, he's too focused on finding a way to make sure Akira wouldn't bolt right after Goro so much as looks at him. His own body is strung tight like a coiled wire, ready to pounce, but if his theory really is correct; if Akira really is Shuuji, then any amount of grappling and wrestling with him would be futile. Akira would win, and Akira knows that. Goro would just have to be more, creative.

He forcibly relaxes himself, breathing softly through his nose. "Akira-kun," He whispers softly, "Would you like to watch the news?" Afterall, Goro could treat this as an advance game of chess with significantly higher stakes than his usual games with Akira. Except, this one will involve real-life situations, not pions or queens or kings.

"Oh, that would be, very interesting." Akira smiles pleasantly. It's as fake as any of Goro's TV persona smiles. "I saw Kaneshiro's confession this morning."

"Yes, that, Futaba had shared it in the group chat." At the mention of Futaba, Akira glances at him briefly, his posture has relaxed more to match Goro's, right leg crossed over his left. The dangling foot is aimed at the door of his apartment.

"She's really invested on the Phantom Thieves." Akira sighs bemusedly. It sounds so real that Goro has to remind himself that it's all an act, a charade to cover something much deeper.

Goro opens his mouth to answer, "Checkmate," He wants to say, but his doorbell rings.

Nakahara's firm voice comes from the other side. "I know you're in there, kid."

Akira's breath hitches and chaos erupts in shades of black and red. 

.

Chuuya supposes he's known, has known since he's seen the tuff of familiar black hair in the subway, days ago. It's a prickle in the back of his head, a stray thought tucked away in dark corners.

To deny is always easier.

Dazai's told him, more times than Chuuya's ever bothered to count, that Chuuya cares too fast for his people, and much too hard for someone in the mafia, for someone who is part of the infamous Soukoku. Chuuya's denied it, once, but ever since he's lost his man in the fight against Shibusawa Tatsuhiko, he's list any ability to deny, again.

He denies it, unconciously, now.

(Loyalty has always been his core.)

Being betrayed by two people in the same way for entirely different reasons had hurt more than Chuuya would like to admit.

Although, the brat hadn't blown up Chuuya's car, so that's a plus.

Tsushima Shuuji had just... disappeared, one day, the same Dazai had.

Gone.

Except Chuuya hadn't been abroad, and he'd been the one sent to go after Shuuji.

Along with Akutagawa and hadn't that been a brewing disaster all on its own.

_"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO REPLACE DAZAI-SAN!!!"_

_"...I never wanted too."_

Shuuji’d said, walked away and Chuuya has never seen him again. Not until, weeks later, a report of an ex-Port Mafia executive had been detained by the Yokohama Police Department. Oh, how they’d celeberated.

Chuuya’s blood still burns over it.

Now, here he stands, by the doorway of a mid-tier apartment in Shibuya with only the words of a traitor and his own instincts to back him up.

That is, of course, before his own ability decided to attack him.

The door flings open with aloud, _bang_ that raises all of his hackles. For the Tainted Sorrow surges through him, the sheer power has him shooting into the room and tackling a black and white form encased in roaring flames. His ability clashes, twists and explodes outwards, increasing the gravity of everything around him by folds of ten.

Someone gasp and there’s a dull thud that signifies a fallen body.

Chuuya ignores it in favour of focusing on the bigger threat laid in front of him instead.

And, it really is him. Shuuji.

The same dark eyes and wild hair. The same look from six months ago, except this time, there’s a sense of fear in him. A fear of longing. A fear of losing anything.

Everything.

“What- what do you _want_?” Shuuji gasps breathlessly, his ability twisting to counter Chuuya’s own. _“Isn’t it enough?”_

 _‘It never is.’_ Chuuya wants to say aloud, but he doesn’t because he knows that the both of them are thinking about entirely different things. He recognizes the look Shuuji gives him; a desperate, cornered animal biting and snapping at anything that so much as reaches for him.

(It’s a look he’s seen often times in the mirror before the Port Mafia.)

“Kid.” He says, gruffly, instead. “You-”

Shuuji cuts him off with a wail, loud and cracked and heart-wrenching. Crimson and ebony lash out at him, dislodging his hold and flinging Chuuya of off the younger. He shifts his own gravity, lands gently on the ceiling and watches with wary eyes as Shuuji stands slowly, body swaying and weak.

He looks as if a single gust of wind could topple him.

Bandages unravel slowly. The ends untucked from their brief scuffle.

Chuuys’a nose wrinkles as the scent of blood, strong and new – _fresh,_ washes over him. His eyes narrow when he catches sight of marred skin, littered with scars and wounds. Burns and gashes cover the expanse of Shuuji’s whole arm, small and eerily kanji-like and a revelation hits Chuuya, though he’s not surprised.

“You used it, didn’t you?”

“I _had_ to.” Shuuji growls at him threateningly. He grasps at the loose ends of the bandages, winding it around his arm and tucks the loose end in between its fold. Or, well, tries to, anyway. It’s a sloppy job, what with only one arm available and Chuuya’s sure that one must hurt to move, too.

“I had too.” Shuuji repeats. “Your goons wouldn’t leave me alone, otherwise.”

“Then why are you using it now?” Chuuya questions him, slowly lowering himself from the ceiling to the floor.

“Because.” Shuuji snaps, going quiet and tense. He’s dangerous, when he’s like that. All the debonair charm flung out the window, replaced by a near silent spectral ready to kill at a moment’s notice.

“Becau-”

Something tackles him to the side, somehow managing to bypass his reflex. It’s the other one, Chuuya realizes belatedly, Akechi Goro, as they both tumble down to land beside the overturned couch.

Chuuya growls, wants to push the detective away but another flash of red and he’s too busy pulling the both of them out of the way of a snapping black dragon.

Shuuji cries at the miss, the dragon lunging and tearing into the couch instead of flesh and bones. Blood leaks out of the corner his mouth in a steady trickle.

_Drip, drip, drip._

It goes, staining the floor with drops of crimson flower. Akechi gasps from under Chuuya, struggles to get out of his hold but Chuuya pins him and hisses, “Do you _want_ to die?”

Hawk-sharp eyes hold Chuuya’s own gaze with fierce determination burning in maroon depths. “Nakahara-san,” The boy starts. “I don’t care what grudge you have against Akira, but _don’t touch him_.”

Amused as he is from the protective tone the detective had adopted for someone as deadly as _Tsushima Shuuji,_ the only Shadow Executive of the Port Mafia, there are more pressing matters to attend to.

Still, he takes his time to raise an incredulous eyebrow at the younger.

And, Akira? Is that the new name his former-fellow made man had taken to?

Another lunge from the snapping dragon, this time blocked by a nearby chair courtesy of For the Tainted Sorrow. It burst into splinter of wood that Chuuya deflect, the dragon dispersing as Shuuji, Akira bends forward, a painful set of coughs rattling his lungs.

Chuuya loathes to use such moments of weakness against anyone, let along someone who used to be his subordinate (even when it’s just for a short amount of time, the kid grows on you, really, and better Chuuya than Dazai or Mori). He knows they’re both from the mafia, and, in a life or death situation, honour doesn’t matter anymore. He’s never been one to skirt away from fighting dirty, anyway, if his time in Sheep is any indication.

Gloved hands pin the younger down. An arm crossed over the throat and the other pressing a thin wrist to the ground right beside Shuuji’s head. His left knee presses down on the remaining free arm as Chuuya increases the gravity around them. Something pushes against his ability, but it’s weaker, sloppy and Chuuya easily crushes it.

Shuuji struggles harder but there’s no dislodging Chuuya’s hold, this time. Chuuya gives him a single glare and the younger quiets down, deciding to glare back instead.

“You’ve got to _stop.”_

The damn brat pushes _harder,_ because he’s as stubborn as Dazai is when he has his head set on something.

The smell of burning flesh assaults his nose, the bandages wrapped around Shuuji’s wrist stains a darker red then before. Red and black markings, familiar, like the thorny vines of roses creep up the younger’s face. Chuuya’s eyes widen in alarm.

_No._

“Tsushima, you can’t-“

He’s thrown off at the sudden wave of pure, unfiltered power as Shuuji fucking goes and activates his own version of Corruption, even more fatal than Chuuya’s because the brat doesn’t even have a proper handle of the basic form of his ability, let something like Corruption. Besides, they’ve been separated for far too long, Chuuya can’t gauge the backlash that will surely affect the former-executive given how far apart they’ve gone.

The only reason Shuuji could even still survive using his ability is because Chuuya still, somehow, stupidly, considers him a friend even with Shuuji’s recent betrayal. He still sees the kid running around the Port Mafia halls and bothering him much like Dazai bothers the grunt, Oda Sakunosuke, if he remembers correctly.

Shuuji’s barely survived using Corruption then, when they were close, with the added availability of Dazai’s own ability. Now, Chuuya knows, can feel it in his bones, that Shuuji won’t survive.

So, he acts.

.

When Nakahara had burst in the room, eyes blazing, clad in red and black much like Akira. Goro had stood, shell-shocked as the two other occupants of the room tumble down and wrestle on his living room floor.

Now, he stands, the same way as before, as markings creep up Akira’s face and the smell of burnt flesh fills the air.

Nakahara tenses and Goro fully expects him to attack Shuuji, but then, he turns and lunges for Goro, instead.

“You!” Nakahara shouts amidst Akira’s pained cries. “That world, get us to that world!!”

It takes Goro a few precious seconds to realize what Nakahara was talking about.

The Metaverse.

Not mementos, to far away from the station as they were, the only other option is to enter a palace.

Specifically, Akira’s palace.

The thing is, Goro has been looking for a way in Akira’s palace for weeks, with little to no success, which means that’s a dead end too. Unless they can spontaneously guess Akira’s keywords.

He hasn’t even gotten the _name_ correctly.

“That place, now!” Nakahara demands.

“We can’t,” Goro counters. “We’re too far away from the entrance to mementos and I don’t have access to a palace!”

“Do you want him to die?” Nakahara hisses, lividly, impatience dancing in his tone.

Goro feels white, hot rage fill him. “No.” He hisses back. _“No.”_

“Then get us _in.”_

Something dives for Nakahara and the older man blocks it with a flick of his hands, manipulating gravity as easily, as naturally as he walks. The knife embeds itself in the wall opposite of them, clattering noisily from the momentum.

“I _don’t even know his name.”_

Nakajara makes a sound of frustration, muttering something akin to “ You kids and your fucking complicated passwords.” And then, louder, “Amamiya Ren, try that one.” Before diving back into the fray to distract Akira from hurting himself futher. Or, Goro hopes so, anyway.

“Amamiya Ren.” He whispers, opening the meta-nav. It pings with a mechanical _“Target Located. Please mention both location and distortion to proceed.”_

“Tokyo.”

That gets him another ping.

With the location found, Goro wrecks his brain for the distortion, coming up empty save for the one thing that had always been on his mind ever since he’s found it.

The book.

It must have been important, somehow, and it’s well worth a try.

Goro gulps, suddenly nervous but still equally determined,

“Pandora’s Box.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling, I'm going to regret something from this chapter. _squints_
> 
> Next chapter? What is a next chapter, I don't know, do you? I hope not because not a single word has been typed yet, ehehe. ;-; Also, a little change on the updating schedule, since work has been piling up, I'll be uploading once every two weeks now, instead of once a week. 
> 
> Well, see you in two weeks!!

**Author's Note:**

> Shout to me in my tumblr, [artmakira](https://artmakira.tumblr.com). Sometimes, I add snippets of ongoing chapters or works.
> 
> Chapter updates will be a lot more chaotic, but I promise I'll try to, at least, upload one every two weeks because Uni have been kicking my ass. I do apologies for this!!!


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